


The Extraordinarily Magical Host Club

by bafflinghaze



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: (Even Taller Blaise), Alive Fred Weasley, Based on Ouran High School Host Club, Bisexual Harry Potter, Blaise as Mori, Butch Pansy, Crack, Draco as Tamaki, Flirting, George and Fred as Hikaru and Kaoru, Harry as Haruhi, Harry is So Done, Humour, M/M, Mostly Prelash, Neville as Honey/Hunny, Nonbinary Mills Bulstrode, Oblivious Harry, Pansy as Kyoya, Post War, Ridiculousness, Tall Draco, Wandless Magic (Draco), dramatic Draco, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-12-18 04:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18242405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze
Summary: One day, Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, breaks a one-hundred-thousandgalleon magical artifact that belongs to the ‘Host Club’, consisting of six not-so-mysterious purebloods. Unable to be reparioed, Harry’s inheritance tied up charities, Harry’s forced to work for the Host Club to pay back the damages!Cue all the hijinks that comes with dealing with a bunch of (mostly rich) purebloods...and maybe a bit of romance, too??





	1. You Will Pay With Your Body

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of scenes are based on Ouran High School Host Club. Note that this is story is set a few years after the War; it is mostly HP-canon-compliant (ignoring the Epilogue) and with an Alive Fred Weasley.
> 
> (For those who have seen OHSHC, please forgive me for not including the Harry Potter-equivalents of all of the Ouran characters.)
> 
> Thanks to geralynn for some tips, and to [Chris/keyflight790](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790) for the beta! Any remaining errors are my own.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

_What the heck’s up with this floo address?_

Harry scowled at the scribbled piece of paper that George gave him. _Draco sodalitas_ , it said. Did it _have_ to have Malfoy’s name? Malfoy just _ruined_ dragons for Harry.

With a pained groan, Harry tossed in the floo powder and called out the address. The floo spat him out onto the softest carpet that was gentle on his knees. But the room itself—empty, and ridiculously opulent, with its shimmering gold-gilt _everything_.

There was only one set of double doors leading out of the room. Harry’s gut instinct suddenly told him to be _careful_. Sure, the twins told him to come here. But…

Cautiously, Harry approached the doors. With a sparkle of magic, the doors swung open silently.

  


“ _Welcome to the Host Club.”_

  


Harry’s mouth dropped opened as flowers and sparkles swirled around him. “What the hell?!”

Front and centre was Draco Malfoy himself, dressed in formal light blue robes, now gasping, a hand politely over his mouth. Pansy Parkinson stood to the side, in a blue suit and clipboard floating beside her. Blaise Zabini stood by the back in dark blue robes, silent, watching.

And _then_.

There was _Neville_ in blue robes and clutching a large potted sentient plant and blushing when Harry met his eyes. And to the other side, two certain twins, George and Fred Weasley in matching blue robes, ears and smirks.

Harry glared at them. “ _You_ two!”

Parkinson jabbed Malfoy, who stopped gasping behind his hand and started towards Harry, a smile on his face.

Harry stumbled back. The smile looked _good_ , which meant that it was _all wrong_.

“Mister Harry Potter,” Malfoy said, voice all low and velvet soft. “Whom do you prefer? The huggable type? Tall, dark and handsome? A threesome?” Malfoy’s hand suddenly caressed Harry’s face. “Or would you like _me_?”

Harry’s cheeks heated up, his ears burning. Malfoy was close enough that Harry could see the different greys _in his eyes_. He pushed Malfoy back and glared at the twins. “George! Fred! I thought we were going to hang out or something. Not _this!_ I’m going!” Frustrated, Harry swung his arm out, and turned to leave.

His arm knocked into something.

That something fell.

And _shattered into a billion gazillion pieces_.

“For Merlin’s sakes,” Harry muttered, drawing out his wand—

“ _No!_ ” Malfoy shoved him.

Parkinson stepped over and examined the aftermath of the crime. She shook her head, sighing. “That costed one-hundred-thousand Galleons, Potter,” she said. “And it _cannot_ be reparioed.”

Harry tried to edge away, back hitting the closed doors. “Er, what was it?”

Malfoy turned to him, eyes dark. Paradoxically, Harry relaxed. Now _this_ Malfoy was what Harry was used to!

“That was _my_ family heirloom artifact charmed for good favour and good health and plentiful gold,” Malfoy growled. “You _will_ pay it back. You’re the heir to the Potter and Black fortunes.”

Harry straightened and shrugged. “That money’s tied up in _charities_ , which I bet you wouldn’t know about even if they hit you in the face. It’s not like _you_ need any more favour or health or gold _anyway_. Who the hell _cares_?”

Malfoy stalked right up to him, _loomed_ over him with that damnable height difference. “You broke it. You pay it. And you will pay it back with your _body_.”

Harry gulped.

“ _As the Host Club’s_ personal elf! For one full year!” With one last glare, Malfoy spun on his heel and stalked off, robes flaring behind him. “Deal with it for me, Pansy,” he said with a raised hand. “I need to prepare for some _actual_ guests.”

“Can you even do that?” Harry protested.

Parkinson smirked. “Oh yes we can.”

Harry tried to catch Neville’s eye.

Neville flushed, hugged his pot plant. “Sorry, Harry.”

Harry gasped. “Wait, is that why _you’re_ here? Because you have to pay something back?”

Neville reddened even more, glancing to Zabini for an unknown reason. “No. Um. Because…”

Zabini gave Neville a slight nod back.

 _Riiggght_. Harry focused on Fred and George. “This is all your fault!” he said childishly.

Fred and George laughed. “You should have—”

“—seen your face!”

“We didn’t tell you to break Draco’s heirloom!”

“ _Argg!_ ” Harry crossed his arms. “I’m going. Right now.” He turned and came face-to-face with a Parkinson with a dark sparkle in her eye.

“I’ll let you leave _for today_ provided you return tomorrow. However, if you do not pay your debt as our servant, we _will_ take matters into our hands.” She smirked. “How does a dozen book deals about the _Life of Harry Potter_ sound? And a naked Harry Potter calendar for the next ten years—”

“Erk!” Harry shook his head. “No, no, servant is _fine_. I’ll be back!”

Parkinson took a half step back and inclined her head. The doors opened behind him, and Harry made his escape.

By the time he got home, which he shared with Ron and Hermione, Harry’s heart was thudding in his chest.

And he shivered, realising what he had gotten himself in to.

The house was still empty, given that it was only early afternoon. But no way was Harry leaving safety. He was going to _wait_.

  


  


“Oh, Harry, wow! What’s all this?” Hermione came over for a hello hug.

Harry blinked up at Hermione and Ron innocently, twiddling his thumbs. In front of him, on the dining table, was half a dozen dishes he had prepared.

“Looks great, mate,” Ron said. “But something happened, didn’t it? Don’t tell me—it’s Malfoy, isn’t it? We haven’t had a Malfoy crisis in a while, we’re _definitely_ due in for one.”

Harry groaned dramatically. “It’s Malfoy _and_ Fred and George!”

Ron looked alarmed. “All three of them?”

“Tell us,” Hermione said.

In a rush, Harry vomited the words out, the horrible, disastrous handful of minutes that have changed his life _forever_.

“Interesting,” Hermione said, her eyes far away. “Neville mentioned a standing afternoon tea appointment. He’s at this _host_ club?”

“No _wonder_ the twins promoted me at their shop! So they could go off and do _that_ ,” Ron said.

“Yes, well, that doesn’t help _me_ with my predicament! How am I supposed to pay back a hundred thousand galleons?”

“Unfortunately, Parkinson is correct. The fastest way to make that money back is if you capitalise on your fame,” Hermione said, patting Harry sympathetically.

“It would take you a long time to earn that working at the Wheezes,” Ron said. “A lot longer than a year.”

“Sit tight,” Hermione said. “We’ll see what we can do. It’s not like you’re currently employed or busy, Harry,” she added, giving Harry a look.

Harry winced, feeling the jab through his heart.

“But for now... _Neville’s_ there,” Hermione continued. “Nothing bad’s going to happen with him around. And I’m almost sure that the twins won’t do anything illegal.”

“Not very motivating,” Harry mumbled.

Ron slapped on him on the back. “Hey, if nothing else, you’d have a _lot_ of stories to tell us. With Fred and George around, I bet stupid shit’s going to happen.”

“And Malfoy,” Harry added.

Ron gave him a weird look. “Right. And Malfoy.” Ron clapped his hands together. “Okay, Harry’s crisis temporarily solved. Can we have dinner now?”

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes are technically approximate due to the source material being Japanese:
> 
>  _"...you will pay it back with your body.”_ \- Tamaki (Draco) to Haruhi (Harry) (Episode 1)


	2. The Plight Of Poor Muggles

“Oh Draco, what is your favourite music?” a witch asked.

Malfoy leaned in. “The sound of your voice.”

The witch smiled, cheeks reddening. “Draco, what is your favourite dish?”

Malfoy captured the witch’s chin, tilting her head up. “The taste of your lips upon mine.”

Harry tried not to choke on all the roses floating around. Hermione had _said_ it would be alright with Neville around, but he _wasn’t_. Sniffing, Harry shifted his attention to where the twins were entertaining two older witches.

“—and then he fell!” George was saying.

“...It hurt,” Fred said, head turning away.

George’s eyes widened. He reached over, hand touching Fred’s cheek. “I didn’t realise.”

Fred turned his head to look into George’s eyes. “Next time—”

“—I’ll protect you, brother. I promise.” As the two stared into each other’s eyes, the two older witches placed their hands over their hearts.

“ _Oh!_ So _sweet!_ ”

“Brotherly love!”

Harry tried not to gag. It _would_ be funny to tell Ron this...until Fred and George realised and got their revenge on Harry. He tried to edge back—no one appeared to want him to do anything servant-ly.

“Amazing to watch, isn’t it?” Parkinson murmured suddenly into his ear.

Harry jumped. “Huh?”

“The Host Club is an exclusive venture,” Parkinson said. “Clients, carefully picked, donate to any number of charitable causes and are invited to stay within this manor house, the hosts attending to them in light conversation...and are tempted with in-house merchandise.” She suddenly produced a photobook from thin air. “The most popular is that of Draco, of course. Would you like to have a look?” From the cover, Malfoy gave a slow wink.

“No!” Harry pushed it away. “Who would want pictures of _Malfoy_?”

“Is it too much for your heart to look upon the beautiful visage of my face?” Malfoy murmured into his ear.

Harry ducked, twisted, wrapped his arms around himself. _What the hell is with Slytherins and ears?!_ “It doesn’t matter what people look like on the outside! It’s the inside that counts! Not like _you_ would know.”

“Potter, the War is over,” Malfoy said lightly. “I have reviewed my ways to produce an inside as beautiful as the outside.” He stood, turning his head to the side.

Harry waited for him to say something. Malfoy kept looking into the distance.

“That’s his best side,” Parkinson said.

Harry giggled. “Oh Merlin, really?”

Malfoy turned his head back and scowled. “Maybe you should update your _prescription_. You wouldn’t know beauty if it hit you in the face! Your demeanour is absolutely unacceptable! One must cultivate a feeling of a genteel wizard—”

“....I wouldn’t call you a genteel wizard,” Harry snorted. “More like…” Harry rubbed his chin. “Ah! That’s right. _Annoying!_ ”

Malfoy’s mouth dropped opened. “A— _annoying_?” His entire expression dropped, and he wandered, unsteady, to a corner to sit with his knees drawn up to his chest. Light around him inexplicably dimmed, and it started to rain just around him.

Parkinson chuckled. “You really got him, Potter. You always were good at that.”

Emotions warred inside Harry’s chest. “I—er—didn’t _mean_ to—your wandless magic is really cool?” Harry tried.

Malfoy’s rain poured harder.

 _Okay, definitely annoying_ , Harry thought. But was, for once, smart enough not to say it out loud.

The doors swung open, and Harry immediately turned for a distraction, and he brightened when he saw that it was Neville (and Zabini, but, well, Harry tried to ignore _that_ part of it). Neville had huge bouquets of flowers in his arms, whilst Zabini carried Neville’s pot plant.

“Oh, Neville!” Witches and the scant handful of wizards came flooding over.

“These are for you,” Neville said shyly, handing out flowers to everyone. “I worked really hard today. I’m sorry if I sound a little short, I’m just very tired.” With now-free hands, he rubbed his eyes blearily.

Zabini placed a hand on the small of his shoulder and pushed him towards a reclining sofa. Handing him the pot plant, Zabini conjured a blanket and tucked it in around Neville.

“Thank you,” Neville murmured, smiling up at Zabini.

The witches and wizards watching _melted_.

“ _Bromance_ ,” one of the witches whispered.

“Such a loving, wholesome relationship,” one of the wizards clutched his chest.

Harry facepalmed, glasses be damned. “What’s the point of all this?!”

“Can you not understand the deep hearts of gentlewixes?” Malfoy suddenly said, looking all brand new, hand over his heart and sparkles around him and completely dry after his stint in his rainy corner. “The world is a cruel place. Here, we provide an island of warmth and safety and love.”

Harry was _not_ moved by Malfoy’s act.

Malfoy sighed. “Perhaps time will teach. Potter, go fetch afternoon tea supplies. Neville’s always hungry when he wakes up from a nap—don’t forget cake.”

Harry looked to Parkinson.

Parkinson raised an eyebrow. “Well, what are you waiting for, _servant_?”

Harry gulped. “Going, _going_.” He waved them away.

_Afternoon tea—what the heck do people have for afternoon tea?_

  


  


_This better be what they have for afternoon tea_ , Harry thought as he dumped all his groceries upon one of the tables in the main host club room. He had kept the Tesco receipt because _hell_ if he wasn’t going to get reimbursed for this.

“Did you get tea?” Malfoy wandered over.

“Yeah, here,” Harry threw a box of Twinnings at Malfoy.

Malfoy gasped. “A cardboard box!” He opened the packaging and gasped again. “The tea is in peculiar little bags!”

Fred and George came over. “Ah, Harry’s gotten us muggle tea!”

“Did you get coffee?” Parkinson said.

“Yeah. Instant coffee okay?”

“Magical instant coffee distilled by specialist potion masters?” Parkinson smirked.

Harry scowled. “No.” He passed her a container of Nestle Instant Coffee. “And I got some digestives, and cakes like you asked.”

Parkinson pulled a face. “Must you?”

Malfoy’s face brightened, eyes widening and mouth in a broad smile. “Come one, come all! Potter has acquired as _poor muggle food!_ We must try these! And then, perhaps, we will be closer to understanding the plight of poor muggles…!”

“I can’t believe you went to a muggle place,” George snickered.

“You’ve gotten Draco all a-flutter,” Fred snickered.

“Potter!” Malfoy demanded. “How does one make this muggle tea? Show us!” Malfoy—wandlessly—conjured a long demonstration table and summoned a matching teapot and tea cups.

“Do you have a kettle?” Harry asked.

Malfoy looked at him blankly.

“Muggles use them to boil water,” Parkinson drawled.

“Muggles don’t have a spell for hot water?” Malfoy shook his head in wonder.

“Ugh, right,” Harry muttered. “Right, first, boiling water.” He _augmenti_ -filled a teacup with water, and then applied a heating charm until the water boiled.

The crowd of hosts and clients (aside from Parkinson) _oohed_.

“Step two, add in tea bag.” He swiped one from Malfoy’s hand and dropped it in.

The crowd of hosts and clients (aside from Parkinson) _aahed_.

“Step three, wait two-to-three minutes.” Harry had to brace himself against the table as the crowd stared at tea cup in fascination.

It had to be only a minute, but Harry had enough. “And then, you remove the teabag”—he _vanished_ it—“and add any milk or cream or sugar as you wish.” Shit, Harry felt _so_ foolish, but his waved his hand across the tea cup and himself in a sweeping move. “And voila.”

The crowd of hosts and clients (aside from Parkinson) _clapped_.

“Let me try it,” Malfoy decided. He delicately picked up the tea cup. With a cool breath lessening the steam and cooling the tea, Malfoy took a sip. “Peculiar,” he declared. “Strong, no doubt, yet short and flat, and perhaps a little burnt. There is only one main note, lacking complexity and taste.” He took another sip. “If muggles must drink this, no wonder so many of them are miserable.” He put the cup down. “Potter! Make each of us a cup so that we may temporarily understand the plight of muggles!”

“Oh my Merlin,” Harry sighed.

Fred and George laughed, leaning up against themselves for support. “This is what Harry—”

“—has normally at his place!”

Harry’s cheeks ached hot. “Stop telling my secrets,” he said. He resolved not to look at them and repeated the procedure enmasse.

One of the witches twisted her hands. “Draco, I’m not sure I’m allowed to drink this. My mother would disapprove…”

Malfoy swooped in, tilting up her chin. “Then, perhaps my lady would like to drink it from my mouth, my lips, my tongue?”

The witch blushed, eyes squeezing shut. “Ahh!!”

“Oh, hi, Harry.”

Harry forced himself to rip his eyes off Malfoy, and smiled pleasantly at Neville...and his looming Zabini. “Hi. Malfoy said cake, right?”

Neville’s eyes brightened. “You have cake?”

“Yeah.” He waved over the five boxes of Tesco _finest_ cakes: chocolate, red velvet, victoria sponge, carrot, and white chocolate and strawberry.

“Tesco cakes are muggle factory made, and decorated by muggle hands,” Parkinson said. “McVities chocolate digestives are also made by muggle machinery. Muggles are so innovative, aren’t they? That they must rely on mechanical devices in the absence of automation spells.”

“I’m going to try them,” Neville decided, as though it was a mighty quest. “They can’t be that bad, right?”

The words shot an arrow through Harry’s heart. _Neville, Neville! How could you betray me like that?_

He tried to turn away, but _that damn Parkinson_ stood in his way. “Where are you going, Potter?” she asked. “You are our servant. Serve us.”

Inside his soul, Harry cried. How had his life come to this?

He was _never, ever_ going to listen to the twins _ever again_. He sneaked a glance at them, and they were lovingly feeding each other one half of a chocolate digestive to the adoring gazes of older witches.

_Yeah, never again!_

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Annoying"_ (or _"Obnoxious"_ ) - How Haruhi (Harry) describes Tamaki (Draco) (Episode 1)


	3. You’re a Host, Harry!

Glumly, Harry cleaned up after everyone had their _fun_ eating the muggle food he had brought.

“Potter, why the down face? The afternoon tea was a success!” Malfoy’s annoying face was much too close.

Harry turned his head away. “You mean it was a _joke_.”

“Potter, muggles are not a joke.”

“This is the stuff _I_ usually get,” Harry said.

“Oh. My apologies…” Malfoy’s hand was suddenly on Harry’s face, caressing like a lover’s hand. “I did not mean to cause you strife.”

Harry’s heart thudded in his chest loudly for no apparent reason.

Malfoy licked his lips, fingers sweeping up. “And why must you keep such a messy fringe?” He pushed Harry’s hair up, and Harry scrambled to cover his scar, because—

“ _Beautiful_ ,” Malfoy whispered, staring deep into Harry’s eyes.

Blood rushed into Harry’s face. “Wh-what?” His hands became clammy. Up so close, why was Malfoy’s skin so smooth and soft looking? What would happen if Harry touched it?

Malfoy clicked his fingers. “Pansy, call Mills! We need a _makeover!_ ” Malfoy started herding him into an adjoining room, leaving Harry utterly bewildered.

Mills Bulstrode came in, their hair in a quiff, and long robes that opened to a waistcoat and shirt and bow-tie beneath. They conferred with Malfoy and Parkinson, to Harry’s increasing dread.

“It shall be done,” Bulstrode declared, after giving a sharp look over Harry. “Out, everyone! Except you, Potter.”

_Oh shit._

  


  


“There.” Bulstrode crossed their arms in satisfaction. “Who knew you were hiding this face all throughout Hogwarts? You could have gotten Draco to swoon over you _much_ earlier.”

“What would I want Malfoy to swoon over me?” Harry muttered. His forehead felt bare, defenseless, with his hair trimmed and arranged upwards. Bulstrode had left his glasses—small mercies, given that they had said _it’s charming in its ugliness_.

“Now, for your debut.” Bulstrode jabbed at him. “Go on.”

“Does it have to be robes?” Harry despaired.

“They look _good on you_ ,” Bulstrode said sternly. “Draco! He’s ready now!”

The door swung open and Harry stumbled out, as stars and leaves and roses burst around him. He blushed when he saw that everyone was watching, clapping.

Out of the crowd, Harry spotted Malfoy immediately. Malfoy was dabbing his cheeks with a handkerchief.

“Potter. _Harry_. You’re so handsome. Daddy’s so proud of you!”

“You—you’re _not my dad_ , Malfoy!”

Predictably, Fred and George burst out laughing.

Parkinson was taking photos. “Keep that blush, Potter,” she ordered. “It makes you look adorable.”

“I’m not _blushing!_ ” Harry pressed his hands against his burning cheeks.

“I’ve decided,” Malfoy said, still dabbing his eyes. “Harry, if you have one thousand customers, I will considered your debt repaid. You will be a host!”

Neville patted him on the arm and gave him a kind smile. “Don’t worry, Harry. It’s fun. And you _do_ look good.”

Harry sniffed. “Thanks, Neville.”

And that was how, a little bit later, Harry found himself seated with an old witch and old wizard.

“So, um, hi, my name is Harry.”

The wizard chuckled. “We know your name, Mr Potter. But we are curious, what brings you to the Host Club?”

Harry gave a pained smile. _Because I broke Malfoy’s bloody expensive heirloom that didn’t even have any protective charms around it?_ Quickly, he thought back to Malfoy’s quick hosting-primer.

“ _Use those luminous green eyes. Look at people from a lower perspective. It’ll solve all of your adorable problems.”_

“Um..” Harry leaned over, tilting his head down and looking up through his lashes. “Would you like another cup of tea?”

The old witch tittered. “My, what a polite wizard! What a dear!” She patted him on the knee, and Harry flushed.

“My Hermione always tries to teach me manners,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m pleased you think so. I—you two have been together for a long time?”

The old wizard grinned, giving the old witch a deep look. “We have.”

“Um, would you tell me about it?” Harry tried awkwardly. However, the two old wixes apparently loved his awkwardness, doting upon him for rest of their session. At the end of it, he helped them up and accompanied them to the floo.

“Can we see you next time?” the old witch asked.

Harry smiled. “Of course!”

When he returned to the main host club room, Malfoy waved him over.

“Harry, have you met Lady Josette Lestrange the second? Josette is visiting from the Continent, but she has graciously come today,” Malfoy said.

Lestrange reclined, dressed in shimmering gold robes. Her eyes were dark.

Harry, very used to dark looks from people, ignored it, and said, “Nice to meet you, Lady Josette. I hope we get to know each other.” He smiled politely.

Lestrange opened her mouth—

—but before she could say anything, Harry was immediately pounced upon by Malfoy.

“You were _so cute!_ ” Malfoy gushed. “Seeing your awkward, embarrassed smile! You looked like such an adorable idiot!”

“Let go of me!” Harry tried to push Malfoy off. He spotted the only person taller than Malfoy in the room—“Za—Blaise! Help me!”

Zabini swooped in and picked Harry up out of Malfoy’s hold. Harry met Zabini’s eyes.

And Zabini put Harry over his shoulder.

“Blaise, you didn’t have to go that far,” Malfoy sniffed.

“He asked for my help. So I helped,” Zabini said.

“Give Daddy a hug,” Malfoy whined.

“I already have a dad!” Harry shouted back.

With Harry over his shoulder, Zabini walked over to Neville and Harry down on the seat next to him. And Zabini _smiled._ “Alright?”

Despite himself, Harry’s heart skipped an annoying beat. _Ugh, no wonder Neville likes him!_ Harry smoothed down his hair. “Thanks.”

Neville patted Harry on shoulder. “You were a natural!” he said. He plucked a flower from a nearby bouquet. “Here!” he said, tucking it behind Harry’s ear. “That looks great!”

All these compliments made Harry flush.

“ _Oh, bromance!_ ” the nearby witches swooned, and Harry ducked his head in embarrassment. It only made the witches and wizards coo even harder.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Haruhi: "[...] Help me!"_  
>  _Tamaki: "[...] Let daddy give you a big hug"_  
>  _Haruhi: "I've already got a dad. [...]"_ \- When Mori (Blaise, here), sweeps in to save Haruhi (Harry) (Episode 1)
> 
>  _"You're a [...], Harry!"_ \- Hagrid to Harry.


	4. A plot against Harry? Been there, done that.

Harry rummaged through the cupboards. He was _sure_ the food he had bought for afternoon tea had been there.

Frowning, he quickly looked around, but there was no one there. So he cast an Auror spell Cho had told him about, gold spreading out and revealing footsteps. Harry quickly followed.

He frowned when he came to section with a fine dust. And then he saw the scraps of teabag and foil. _Someone_ had blasted the afternoon tea items.

Harry quickly cast a tempus and groaned. It was almost afternoon tea-time, and Parkinson was going to absolutely _kill_ him.

“Alright there?”

Harry quickly looked up. Josette Lestrange was there, an odd smile on her face.

“Er—yes—”

“You may have charmed Draco, but you’ll never become refined,” Lestrange said. “Don’t take his attention on you as _like_. He merely sees you as a fun _project_ to train like a dog.”

Harry gave Lestrange a forced smile. “Okay. Excuse me, but I really have to go.” Harry fled to back to the main host room.

“Oh, Harry!” Malfoy called out.

“Can’t,” Harry shouted back, and headed into the floo room. But when Harry threw the floo powder in, the flames didn’t change.

“Where are you going?”

Harry turned around. Malfoy had his wand out, no doubt stopping the floo from working.

Harry grimaced. “It seems like the afternoon tea prep’s gone, so I have to really dash out.”

“Then I’ll come with you,” Malfoy said firmly. “It would be a good opportunity to show me a muggle marketplace.”

“Oh, _fine_ , as long as you stay silent. _You_ don’t want to be the cause of Neville waking up to nothing, do you?”

“Of course not,” Malfoy said, insulted.

Harry rolled his eyes and beckoned Malfoy over. “Let’s go.”

It was, unsurprisingly, an absolute pain dragging Malfoy around. He wanted to buy and try _everything_. Only Harry’s suggestion of _next time_ did Malfoy accede. At the end of the trip, Malfoy side-alonged them back, just in the time for Neville’s waking up.

The next day, Harry found himself with a fixed fake smile as he faced Lady Josette Lestrange II from across a table.

“It’s peculiar that your muggle _things_ would be obliterated like that,” she was saying, as she daintily sipped her tea. “But you bothered Draco too much. It was utterly vulgar of you to drag poor Draco to a dirty muggle shop. Regardless of your fame, Mr. Potter, you are still a _halfblood_. A second class citizen of my world.”

Harry smiled back pleasantly. Harry had practice smiling pleasantly to people he disliked.

Lestrange peered at him through her lashes. “Don’t mistake Draco’s attention. He does not love you, and never will. Your blood is too _mongrel_.”

And Harry couldn’t stand it. He burst out laughing. “ _Love?_ Oh man, are you jealous?”

The entire table suddenly flipped over, tea cups and pots clattered to the floor.

“Help!” Lestrange cried, falling back onto the floor. “Harry Potter—he—he said he wanted to hurt me—that my cousin was on the Dark Lord’s side—”

Harry looked at her, bewildered.

Fred and George stepped over. “ _Augmenti_ ,” they said.

Lestrange became soaking wet. She came to her feet, eyes wide, brows drawn together. “What? _Why_?”

Parkinson stalked forward. “Oh, don’t think we don’t know about _that_ ,” she said ominously.

“This—this is Harry Potter’s fault!” Lestrange spluttered. “I _demand_ you have him thrown out!”

Malfoy glided over, and caressed Lestrange’s cheek. “Oh, Josette.”

“You believe me? That Harry Potter—”

“I cannot have clients that behave badly towards my hosts,” Malfoy said sadly. “It’s the Post War World, Josette. Have you not learnt a lesson from our recent past? It is not _blood_ that matters to the quality of the person. I _know_ Harry. So if you please, Lady Josette, I kindly ask you to leave.”

Parkinson smirked.

“I _hate_ this place!” Lestrange glared at everyone and fled.

Harry stared at Malfoy. Malfoy noticed, and gave Harry a look of concern.

“Are you feeling well? That must have been a shock—”

Harry blinked. Malfoy really _had_ changed. Harry smiled. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

Malfoy cheeks suddenly bloomed red. “You. Are. So. _Cute_.”

It was Harry’s turn to get flustered. “What are you talking about?” he spluttered. “Let me clean that mess up. Go back to your clients,” Harry persuaded.

“An utter _gentlewizard_ ,” Malfoy breathed.

Harry rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but smile.

“It looks like we _can_ negotiate with them for an alternative payment method,” Hermione said, as Harry set out their dinner that night. “But it would be difficult.”

Harry bit back a smile. “Actually...I think it’s not that bad.”

Ron gasped. “ _Really?_ ”

“Fred and George are pretty fun,” he said pointedly.

Hermione _harrumphed_. “When they’re not playing tricks on _you_.”

“True,” Harry conceded. “But Malfoy’s a lark, and it’s nice to talk to different people who are actually not greedy reporters, you know? Everyone’s too _refined_ there to act like that.” He shot Hermione a sheepish smile. “It’s better than hanging round at home all day.”

“If you ever need help, you know how to bribe me,” Ron said seriously.

Harry grinned. “Thanks. Hey, Hermione, what do you know about afternoon tea?”

“ _Well_ —”

  


  



	5. A Gentlewizard Must Know How To Dance

Harry scrambled, and nearly fell out of the floo. He was _late_ , and he had no life-threatening-level excuse.

As quietly as he could, he opened the main doors. And he was blinded by the sudden bright light and buffeted by the warm wind that rushed past.

Malfoy was reclined back on a throne, and the other hosts were arranged around him. The sound of waves set the background atmosphere. “Welcome—”

Fred blinked. “Oh, it’s just you, Harry.”

Harry quickly cast a calendar spell. “It’s...the middle of December. It’s even _snowing_ in London!” He quickly looked back to the others. They were all “dressed” in summerwear, and showing off expanses of skin on their arms, legs...and in Zabini’s case, even chest with artfully arranged “clothing” that covered his nipples.

“This is—”— _stupid_. Harry cut himself off before Parkinson could murder him.

Malfoy glided over to Harry in his short-sleeved shirt and shorts and a shimmery-sheer robe. “A gentlewizard cannot wear heavy, winter robes all the time. It is winter, and thus, here, we will welcome our guests to a summer paradise,” Malfoy said loftily.

Harry shot Fred and George an incredulous look. The twins merely smirked back.

Malfoy tilted his head down into Harry’s view. “And this is a poetically beautiful counterpoint for our main event this December: the Winter Ball.” He leaned in. “I cannot _wait_ to see you all dressed up—I have summer robes for you.”

Skeptically, Harry went along, but when he saw the muggle speedos and the semi-transparent short robes, he immediately backed away. “No, _thank you_ ,” he said, shuddering.

“ _Positions!_ ” Parkinson cut in. “Draco, stop trying to seduce Potter.”

Malfoy gaped. “What? No!”

Harry happily skipped away. “I’ll go get the refreshments!”

When he returned, the guests and the hosts were seated about in the room. Malfoy was doing his typical hand-under-the-client’s-chin-and-almost-kiss, and Fred and George were doing that intense twin-bonding. And the clients were absolutely lapping it up.

Harry felt second-hand embarrassment from it all.

Parkinson sniggered. “It looks like being half-naked is extremely popular.”

“I’m surprised you _purebloods_ weren’t all prudes,” Harry said.

Parkinson gave him a look. “Never heard of the rumour of the Slytherin sex dungeon?” Harry spluttered, but Parkinson simply continued, “We had another plan, a winter-gothic dress-up. But I’m glad I put that photobook of Australian summer beaches in front of Draco.” She gave Harry a dark smirk.

Harry leaned back from Parkinson, just a bit. _Oh shit, she’s the shadow lord here!_ He took a step back when Parkinson fixed him with a look.

“What are you doing, chatting to _me_?” she said archly. “You have a client. Astoria Greengrass.”

“Ah, yes!”

Harry’s poorly-functioning gaydar actually _worked_ the moment he saw Astoria striding through into the main host room, robes open revealing a dressy pant suit and heels. The way she carried herself was so similar to Ginny, that realised that he _knew_.

Which made him confused. Why didn’t Astoria request Parkinson then? Unless she wanted him for Harry Potter fame, but Parkinson had been surprisingly good about making sure Harry’s clients weren’t of _that_ sort.

Harry pulled out a chair. “Good afternoon, Lady Greengrass.”

Astoria smirked. “Astoria, please. Lady Greengrass is my mother.” She tilted her head. “I thought Draco was exaggerating, but you really _are_ cute.” She took Harry’s hand, and pressed a kiss onto the back of it. “I’ll make you my favourite.”

Harry cursed his bisexual heart as his cheeks reddened. Confidence often got him—case in point was Ginny, before all that kerfuffle with the War.

“Ah, um, thank you? Would you like some tea?” Harry babbled, busying himself with the tea pot and cups.

Astoria chuckled. “Thank you.”

“Ah, um, what have you been doing since Hogwarts? You have a sister, don’t you?” Harry babbled on. “But I don’t really remember you—”

Astoria laughed. “Your honesty is refreshing. I’ve been travelling round the Continent, mostly France.”

“Luna mentioned something about the gay history in Paris,” Harry recalled. He made the right decision when Astoria’s eyes lit up.

“Indeed,” she said. “I’ve spent many hours pouring over old books and photos. Did you know that—”

Harry listened attentively. As far as clients went, Astoria was one of the best to be around.

After Astoria left, Harry cleared up. That was when he noticed Malfoy sat all by himself, glaring at the far wall.

“What’s up with him?” Harry asked George.

George grinned. “While most clients prefer one host, Astoria tends to switch between them.”

“And just a week ago, Draco was her favourite,” Fred added.

Harry pursed his lips. “Oh, so I took his client…”

Malfoy apparated over. “No!” he denied. “You’re just too damn cute, everyone likes you. Oh, _why_ did I let Mills give you a makeover? You used to _hate_ fashion!”

Harry gave him a flat look. “Should I take that as an insult?”

Malfoy immediately shook his head.

“Then I don’t see what the problem is. I just want to pay back my debt, you know.”

The air suddenly became chilly around Malfoy.

Fred and George laughed. “Hey, Harry,” Fred started.

“You haven’t gotten better at dancing, have you?” George continued.

“It’s compulsory for our Winter Ball,” Fred finished.

“No thanks,” Harry said immediately. “It’s technically not part of the Host Club so...I don’t want to go.”

Malfoy started to chuckle darkly. “Oh Harry. If you wish to be a gentlewizard, you must know how to dance.” His eyes narrowed as he smirked. “If you can master all the wizarding winter dances, I will reduce your debt by _half_.” He unfurled a hand towards Harry. “And who better to teach you than _me_?”

  


Music swayed around the room. Harry’s hands were clammy.

“You’ll be dancing with mostly traditional pureblood witches,” Astoria said, adjusting Harry’s hold. “Therefore, you should learn how to lead.”

“But why can’t _they_ lead?” Harry said piteously.

Astoria shrugged. “Preference? Because they think it’s romantic not to? Look at me, and ignore Draco.”

Harry gave a sheepish smile. Malfoy was sitting in the corner by the window, the air dark and chilly around him—which, by this point, Harry had totally gotten used to. “Okay.”

“Now step—”

Dancing was hard work, and Harry had stepped on Astoria’s toes more than once.

“Thank you for being my dance instructor,” Harry said gratefully, when Astoria called a break. “Better than _Malfoy_.”

Astoria smiled. “All the better to monopolise you,” she said lightly.

There was a knock on the door. Malfoy was still sulking in the corner, so Harry went to open the door.

“Oh!” Harry’s eyes lit up. “Gabrielle, I didn’t know you were in London!”

Gabrielle Delacour smiled back. “It’s almost Yule, I wished to see my sister.”

“Of course!” Harry then noticed that she was carrying a tray of tea and pastries. “Oh wow, did you make these?”

“Pansy ordered them for the Host club today. I thought I’ll take them to you, since you were hard at work dancing.” She winked.

Harry groaned. The Weasleys and anyone else close _knew_ he was a horrible dancer. He stepped aside and let Gabrielle in. “Have you met Astoria Greengrass? She’s been helping me.”

“Ah.” Gabrielle halted.

Astoria looked back.

Harry glanced between them, eyes narrowed. “A-hah! You two _do_ know each other!”

Gabrielle pushed the tray into Harry’s stomach. “Yes, but I assume that you are both busy. I should return, Pansy wants to discuss various things with me.”

Astoria’s lips tightened, and she nodded. “Good to see you, Gabrielle.”

The two gave one last long look at each other, and Gabrielle quickly left.

Harry blinked, bewildered.

Malfoy finally emerged from his unnaturally dark and windy sulking corner. “Astoria…”

Astoria smiled sharply. “I just remembered, I have a pressing engagement. Draco, this is your chance to teach Harry to dance.” And with that, she left the room.

“Astoria is a dear friend. But she is troubled...” Malfoy said quietly. He gazed at the door. “We must get to the bottom of this.”

  


  



	6. Love In the Air At The Winter Ball

Harry was not complaining about his aborted dance lesson, but he couldn’t help but roll his eyes as Malfoy gathered all the other hosts.

“What do you know about Gabrielle and Astoria?” he commanded them.

“Gabrielle is our cousin-in-law!” Fred and George said promptly. “Recently graduated from French Patisserie, she has taken various short jobs around the Continent! She loves baking, and everything she makes is really beautiful. Her flaw is that she’s a perfectionist!”

Malfoy turned to Parkinson. “Pansy?”

Parkinson peered over her papers. “Astoria has been seen around the same locations on the Continent. They became friends during our Fourth Year. She currently works on documenting queer history around the world. Her weakness: a wanderlust, that extends beyond simply changing hosts frequently.”

Harry pulled a face. “Am I just being oblivious here, but isn’t the key thing is that they _like_ each other?”

Parkinson smirked. “It’s not _nearly_ as bad as Draco’s crush on you.”

Malfoy reddened. “It is _not!_ ” he denied, wind whipping around him in distress.

Parkinson shrugged. “Astoria used to be engaged to Draco. _Technically_ , she still is.”

“We agreed that it’s _not_ going ahead,” Malfoy said heatedly, glancing at Harry.

Harry gave back a puzzled look. “What are you looking at me for, Malfoy?”

“But _Gabrielle_ doesn’t quite believe it. She is, after all, a Delacour,” Parkinson said. “She would never _touch_ Astoria for fear of breaking honour.”

“You’re saying it’s _my_ fault?” Malfoy said. He stood straighter and pulled his shoulders back. “Very well. Then we shall _fix_ it.”

“Your plans didn’t really work back in Hogwarts…” Harry started. “I could talk to Fleur. Or you know, to Gabrielle directly.”

“ _Sshh_ , Harry. Leave it to me!” Malfoy said grandly. “Here’s what we’ll do…”

Harry facepalmed.

  


  


The Winter Ball was a few days before Yule, and snow covered the property in a sparkling whiteness. Music wafted quietly in the background as guests arrived, all resplendent in trailing robes, some dark as night, and others bright and glittery as fresh snow in sunlight.

Malfoy, with his ridiculous magicked-train of white-on-white-damask robes descended partially down one spiral staircase. “Welcome to the Host Club’s Winter Ball. In this dark night, we wish to light the warmth in your hearts. Please, enjoy yourself!” With a sweep of his hand, tiny conjured snowflakes sparkled through the air, and the music became louder.

Harry tugged at the collar of his own robes uncomfortably. It didn’t help that he was also standing in the front, and that he knew Hermione and Ron were in the crowd—they had been invited along with Gabrielle, to make sure that Gabrielle was comfortable enough to come.

Fred and George gave identical grins as they came down onto the main dancefloor. “Who would like to play a game with us? If you win, you get a point. And those with the most points will have the chance for the last dance with any host of their choice! And you get a kiss too!”

Malfoy placed a hand on Harry’s back. “Why so tense,” he murmured into Harry’s ear.

Harry jumped a foot away. “I’m just not used to these kind of events!” he spluttered. “I rather be having dinner with Ron and Hermione! Ron makes one of the _best_ roasts—”

Malfoy sucked in a sharp breath. “Come, come, Harry! Daddy has all the food for you!”

Fred and George started laughing as Harry backed away. “No thanks!” Harry dashed down the stairs and into the crowd.

_Hermione, Ron, Hermione, Ron, where are you???!!_

“Ah, Harry.”

Not Hermione or Ron, Harry turned to see Astoria. “Oh, hello!”

Astoria laughed into her hand. “Would you like to dance? I can lead.”

“Oh, sure—” Harry winced and pretended to see— “Oh, isn’t that Gabrielle?”

Astoria stumbled. “Pardon?”

“You _do_ like her,” Harry said bluntly.

Astoria frowned and sighed. “Look, Harry—”

“Found you, Harry!” Neville said. Not far behind him was Blaise, and Harry’s stomach dropped with how fast Blaise suddenly picked him up and put him over his shoulder.

“Astoria! Help!” Harry cried out as Blaise and Neville kidnapped him.

Astoria gave him a what-the-hell look, but before she could do anything else, Blaise and Neville apparated Harry into a private room, where Fred, George and Parkinson were in waiting.

“What the hell?” The moment Blaise had put him down, Fred and George shoved a bunch of clothes at him.

“No complaining, get changed!” they said in unison.

Harry felt like a dress up doll, literally, as he put on the robes and heels and Blaise started casting cosmetic charms on him.

“We’ve sent Gabrielle to the kitchens,” Parkinson said. “The time limit is twenty minutes before the night’s fireworks. Do your _best_ , Harry.” And with that, she put a wig on Harry’s head. “Just like a girl!” she proclaimed.

The door burst open and Malfoy stomped in. “Why are you all here? Our guests are missing you!” He stumbled to a halt when he saw Harry. His mouth opened wordlessly. His entire face became red.

Harry got onto his unsteady feet. “Do I _have_ to wear heels?” he complained.

Fred and George grinned. “You can do it, Harry!”

Glaring at them, Harry left the room and did his best to hobble to down to the kitchens. Gabrielle was there, as promised, and she sighed as she turned to face Harry. She held a letter in her hands.

“Thank you for your letter, but…I cannot answer your feelings,” she said. “I already have someone in mind, who is important to me. Even if it might never be, I can’t play games like this.” Gabrielle frowned, and tilted her head. “Have I seen you before from somewhere?”

“Err, no, no!” Harry immediately denied.

Gabrielle sighed. “I just...I want to make a living, become better. How can I compare against the rich Draco Malfoy? And I’m part _Veela_ , and I know how the British think we’re but _animals_.”

“You know, if you don’t _tell_ her, she would never know. Isn’t your big sister Fleur Delacour, one of the Triwizard Champions? You should _fight_ for your love. Malfoy isn’t going to get in your way, he doesn’t _want_ to.”

Gabrielle jerked back. “You—” She leaned in. “Are you sure I don’t know you?”

The door suddenly opened, and Astoria stood there. Her eyes sharpened, and she turned away sharply.

Gabrielle gasped and dashed after her. “Astoria!”

Harry turned to follow, but his heels twisted all wrong and he crashed onto the ground. “Damn you!” Harry cursed all the hosts. He should have transfigured the heels into flats.

“Oh, _Harry_ ,” Malfoy rushed in. He immediately drew his wand and cast _Episkey_ , and helped Harry up. Harry immediately kicked off the heels.

“Thanks.”

Malfoy licked his lips, then shook his head. “Come see.” He dragged Harry out to one of the large floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the main courtyard garden. A second later, Astoria and Gabrielle appeared, as fireworks burst in the background.

Malfoy tapped his wand against his throat. “ _Sonorus_. Good wishes to all for this deep winter night,” he said, voice resonating. “And all the best for the lovely couple here tonight. Please enjoy the fireworks we have for you.”

Astoria and Gabrielle glanced up at them through the window, and then turned to each other and laughed.

Malfoy tapped his throat again to end the spell, and sighed as Astoria and Gabrielle stood close to each other, talking quickly.

“Love is in the air tonight,” Malfoy said dreamily. He gazed at Harry. “Don’t you feel it?”

Harry pursed his lips. His chest felt tight. “Er, nah,” he said decisively. The dress was too tight against his torso, restricting his breathing. “I’m going to change back.” He gave Malfoy a wave and jerkily walked back.

In the end, Harry had a good time. He found Hermione and Ron, suffered through Ron’s laughter at his outfit, and danced (poorly) with some of the guests.

“And now for the last event!” Fred and George announced. “The person with the most points is...Astoria Greengrass! Who would you like the last dance and kiss with?”

Astoria conferred quickly with Gabrielle, and then looked directly at Harry.

Harry pouted, but came onto the centre of the dancefloor.

“Our dance earlier had been interrupted,” Astoria murmured, as she led Harry through the steps.

“For a good cause?”

Astoria smirked. “For a good cause,” she agreed, eyes darting out to where Gabrielle was.

The dance came to an end, and Astoria leaned in. “A kiss on the cheek alright with you, Harry? The last from a host, before I go all monogamous with Gabrielle?”

Harry huffed a laugh. “Okay.” He leaned in, tilting his head—

“Hold that kiss!”

—when someone pushed into him—

—and he ended up kissing Astoria on the lips instead. Harry immediately jumped back. “Astoria! I didn’t mean that!”

Astoria licked her lips and smirked. And turned and faced Malfoy, smirking still. “Hm, Draco, I kissed your crush before you did.”

Harry glared at Malfoy. “Why did you push me?”

Malfoy’s eyes widened. “I thought—I was trying to—”

Harry groaned and gave a dismissive wave. “What’s done is done. I hope Gabrielle doesn’t kill me, cousin-in-law or not.”

Malfoy paled. Wobbly, he stumbled to a corner, rain and darkness following him.

Astoria laughed. “You have Draco, _good_ ,” she said gleefully. “I’m glad. I’ve moving in with Gabrielle,” she admitted quietly. “So look after Draco for me, won’t you?”

“If you say so,” Harry said dubiously.

Astoria leaned in. “Trust me. A witch’s instinct, you could say.”

Harry sighed. “Fine.”

Malfoy’s ability to bounce back was amazing. He was all charms and smiles when it came time to farewell all the guests, and he put in the work with the others to clean up. But he was also clearly avoiding Harry’s eye.

Harry sidled up to him. “You know, I’m not _actually_ angry about you making me kiss Astoria.”

Malfoy darted a look at him. “You’re not?”

Harry shrugged. “She’s cool. And it’s not like it’s my _first_ kiss, you know?”

For some reason, a dark cloud appeared over Malfoy’s head.

“What? I mean, I bet you’ve kissed _heaps_ of witches,” Harry scrambled to say. 

Rain started falling on Malfoy.

“Ah! Um! It’s not like it’s _important_ , you know? It doesn’t matter if you haven’t kissed many girls!”

Malfoy started to sniff.

“I’m sorry!” Harry said. “Oh Merlin, oh Morgana.”

“It’s fine, Harry,” Malfoy said, eyes looking into the distance. “You had a good time tonight, yes?”

Bewildered, Harry nodded.

Malfoy nodded. “Your dancing was horrible but I will reduce your debt by a quarter. Go home, Harry. And have a happy Yule.”

Harry’s chest was doing weird things. Was he insulting him? Harry shook his head and ignored it, focusing on the fact that his _debt had been reduced_. “Thanks, Malfoy!” he smiled happily. “I’ll see you later.”

Harry turned and left before he could see Malfoy’s stunned face.

  


  



	7. And Action! Love At First Sight!

“Why are you so beautiful, Draco?” a wizard murmured.

Malfoy smiled gently. “All the better to remain in your eyes.”

“Why is your voice so clear and true?”

Malfoy took the wizard’s hand. “All the best to impart my feelings upon you.”

The wizard blushed, but soldiered on. “Why do you look at me with such deep eyes?”

Malfoy’s eyes crinkled. “Because the sight of you moves my heart.”

The wizard’s eyes dipped down. “Draco…”

Malfoy placed a hand under his chin. “No, raise your head, I wish to see _your_ lovely eyes.”

The crowd of wixes around him all blushed.

Harry cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortably hot, and shifted his attention. Fred and George had a handful of older wixes.

“The colour on your robes are so exquisite,” one witch said.

Fred and George grinned. “Today, we’re wearing robes that Mills Bulstrode designed.”

“And our big brother dressed us up.”

Harry blinked. That had to be a lie. _Bill? Would Bill_ really _do that?_ But then again, Bill was getting more parental-like, and maybe he _did_ see Fred and George as his little baby brothers.

“But it’s _my_ job to take it off, isn’t it, Fred?” George murmured, the only straight person in the Host Club.

Fred stuttered. “George! Please! Not in front of everyone!”

Harry rolled his eyes. The pair of them were acting, _hard_.

“Harry!” Neville rushed over, lip trembling. “Have you seen Briar?”

“What’s _Briar_?”

Neville shot him a hurt look. “My plant! I put him down and I can’t find him—”

“Neville.” Blaise strode over, potted plant in hand. “You left him in the conservatory.”

Neville’s eyes widened, and he gave Blaise and his plant a hug. “Thank you!”

The group of wixes that had been trailing Neville all gave sighs of relief.

“Potter,” Parkinson interrupted. “There’s someone new today. Go greet them.”

“Er, yes,” Harry said smartly. The doors opened automatically revealing…

_Dennis Creevey._

“Oh!” Harry shifted, uncomfortable. “Dennis! Um, welcome to the Host Club?”

Dennis’s eyes widened. “Harry Potter? A hero shouldn’t act so tentative!”

Harry flinched back, bewildered. “ _Pardon?_ ”

“Let me,” Malfoy murmured, gliding over. “Welcome to the Host Club, my prince,” he said, bowing.

Dennis snorted. “You look so stupid, Malfoy. It’s like as though you’re a narcissist, hiding your dark past with this facade of stupidity. So _fake_.”

Malfoy, in slow motion, sunk to the ground.

Parkinson frowned. “You had your name down as David Winterbottom. But you’re definitely not one of Neville’s cousins...”

Dennis’s eyes widened. “Pansy Parkinson!” he rushed over and gave her a hug. “I wanted to see you so badly, my lover!”

Jaws _dropped_.

Malfoy was sulking in the corner again. “He can’t _really_ be Parkinson’s lover,” Harry tried. “She’s gay, right?”

Malfoy burrowed his head down further.

Harry rolled his eyes. He patted Malfoy once on the shoulder and joined the others around Dennis. All the other guests had left.

Dennis sighed, smiling at Parkinson with hearts in his eyes. “It was love at first sight. Or at first read, I suppose,” he added belatedly. “Looking after the neglected plants, saving stray cats. Kind to everyone, and never asking for anything in return. The heart throbbing romance of Mx Avery Robin. Pansy Parkinson, you’re _just_ like them!”

The name _Mx Avery Robin_ pricked Harry’s brain. It was...one of those romance novels that Luna sometimes read!

“You’ve got the wrong person,” Harry said flatly. “Parkinson is _none_ of those things.”

“You don’t understand, Harry,” Dennis said stubbornly. “God, your personalities are all so _bad!_ Aside from Pans, of course.”

“Ah,” Parkinson said. “Please don’t call me after cookware.”

Dennis’s eyes watered. “Sorry! I know you liked being called nicknames in _private_.”

Parkinson’s glare could burn ice, but unfortunately, Dennis was already looking the other way.

“From today onwards, you’re changing your characters!” he said. He pointed at Neville. “You! You slayed Nagini. Despite your cute face, you have a troubled, bullied past, and after the burst of violence, your soul has become that of a beast!”

Neville choked, but Dennis was now aiming at Blaise.

“Blaise Zabini! You follow Neville because he _threatened_ you otherwise! You’re nothing but a glorified bodyguard!”

“Fred and George Weasley! You suffered from the fact that people cannot tell you apart before the War, and now, you can’t imagine a world where people _can_ tell you apart, which is why you invest in such expensive cosmetic spells to hide your injuries from the War! You’re too afraid to let anyone in!”

“Harry Potter—I’m sorry to say this—but you’re a super poor halfblood that was bullied by everyone, shaping you into a villain or a hero, and never your true self!”

“And Malfoy! Always complimenting others, you deflect questions about yourself. You are the _lonely lord_ , with a huge complex about your appearance!”

“And Pansy, you’re perfect,” Dennis finished, a tad shyly.

Parkinson smirked. “Well, thank you, Dennis.”

Malfoy swayed on his feet, and leaned against the wall, turning his face away. “It’s...oh…”

Dennis clapped. “Good! Hold that pose!”

“Parkinson! C’mon!” Harry plead.

Parkinson had a glint in her eye. “Let’s see how this plays out.”

Harry facepalmed.

“How beautiful! A synchronised magic display from Fred and George!” an audience clapped as Fred and George twirled and danced. All of a sudden, Fred slipped, and came down heavily.

“Fred!” George cried.

“It hurts,” Fred whispered. “Go on without me.”

“I _can’t_ ,” George pleaded. “Your pain is _my_ pain.”

All of a sudden, Dennis had them transported from the stage where they had been performing to a grassy plain on the grounds of the Host Club Mansion, with spelled rain falling down.

“Others don’t matter,” George whispered. “Only you, my brother.”

“Brother…” Fred whispered back.

“I envy you,” Malfoy said, eyes hooded, appearing out of nowhere, robes sodden and hair dark with rain. “You have each other for support. While I...to be praised only for my appearance, but nothing else...I prefer to be alone.” He tilted his head up into the raining sky. “I have to be.”

“Harry, you’re up!” Dennis hissed.

Harry stumbled forward.

“You can’t get away from _me_ , Harry,” Neville muttered. “People think you’re the _hero_ for killing Voldemort. But you weren’t the _only_ one who fought! You weren’t the only one who lost!”

Harry gulped, backed up against the tree.

Neville’s eyes were dark, and a replica of Gryffindor’s sword hung at his side.

“Stop it, Neville,” Blaise said quietly. “Your heart suffers every time you hurt someone else. Please…”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Neville scowled. “Do you want to be _punished_ again?”

Blaise bowed his head. “Better me than Harry.”

Neville sneered at Harry. “But Harry needs to be punished too. I hate people like him.” He fingered the hilt of the sword.

Harry stared back.

Neville’s bottom lip wobbled, and his eyes clenched shut. “I can’t do this! Harry’s one of my best friends!”

“Hey!” Dennis yelled. “Follow the damn script!” He groaned. “Cameras, cut for now! SFX team, I need the rain to be _more_ deep! More dramatic atmospheric charms!”

Harry slumped, feeling all yucky with wet clothes. “Where did the film team even _come_ from?”

Parkinson shrugged. “David Winterbottom is one of the best wizarding film directors. It appears that it’s Dennis’s stage-name.”

Blaise drew his wand and shot drying spells at everyone.

“Thanks,” Harry said, shaking his limbs out.

Malfoy bounded over. “How was I? Was my acting good? To think, to appear in one of Winterbottom’s films…Perhaps I should take on this persona during the Host Club.”

Harry sighed. Malfoy was like an overactive _puppy_ at times. _Must be the Black genetics_. “Yes, you were good. But you don’t need to change, Malfoy. You’re fine the way you are.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened, and red blossomed across his cheeks. “Oh.”

Harry patted him. “Yep.” He looked back at where the others were clustered. Dennis was tugging two burly wizards over.

“I just need these two to attack you, Harry!” Dennis was saying. “And then Pansy can swoop in save you!”

The burly wizards looked stricken. “You said we would just be extras in your film! Not the villains!”

“Undoable,” Parkinson said. “I cannot have you film such obvious physical violence.”

Dennis’s eyes watered. “But _Pans_ …we _need_ that pain, how else can you save poor little Harry?”

“I’m not little!” Harry bristled.

Parkinson pinned Dennis with a glare. “Dennis Creevey. I am _not_ Mx Avery Robin. I’m _not_ nonbinary. I’m attracted to _witches_ and _not you_. And stop calling me Pans or I’ll _ruin your career!_ ”

“But-but—Avery would put their hand in my head and pat me and—they would _never_ threaten me!”

Parkinson grinned, showing teeth. “I’m not Avery.”

Dennis sunk to his knees. “But...but…”

Harry sighed and came over. “Dennis. You’re an amazing director. But we’re not your characters come alive. We’re _acting_ here for you. Parkinson is definitely not Avery. If you want to know people better, you have to learn about _them_ , and to not stereotype them based on what you want the world to be organised like.”

Dennis looked at him with watery eyes.

“Your older brother, Colin, he…” Harry swallowed over a lump in his throat. “He took pictures, captured life as it was, as truthfully and candidly as he could. Fantasies are lovely, but real people, we live _here_.”

“I miss him.”

Harry wrapped Dennis in a hug. “So do I.” Slowly, Dennis hugged back.

“And cut!” Dennis said, still sniffling.

Harry blinked. “What? You were _acting?_ ”

“It was truth, caught on camera, as candidly as I could,” Dennis said brightly. “I think I should do documentaries and reality TV next!”

“Ugh, _Dennis_ …” Harry absentmindedly took Malfoy’s hand to stand up again.

“I’m sorry for imposing this all on you,” Dennis said. “But um, Pansy, I _do_ remember our deal. Half the cut, I’ll transfer the finished film to you.”

Parkinson smirked. “Thanks, Dennis. The Host Club is in much need for funds, after all.”

“Oh _Merlin_ ,” Harry stared at Parkinson in betrayal. “A set up! A farce!”

Malfoy wrapped his arms around Harry. “Shh, it’s alright, Harry. I ordered treacle tart for you back at the main Host Club room.”

The twins laughed. “Good one, Pansy!” they said. “Sly like a Slytherin!”

Parkinson winked. “When I try, I always succeed.”

Neville and Blaise joined Harry and Malfoy to the trip back to the Host Club Mansion.

“I need my plants,” Neville said. “And what am I going to do with this _sword_?”

“We shall hang it up,” Malfoy said seriously. “As memory of this day.”

“Your film was so amazing!” a group of clients sat around the wizarding projector Parkinson had set up to show the film.

“I have a special set on sale,” Parkinson said smoothly. “Along with the film, we have extra unseen footage, and a behind-the-scenes making-of.”

“Yes!”

Harry sighed, and bought a set himself. After Ron had heard about what happened, he’d pressed the galleons into Harry’s hand to acquire the film.

The only vindication Harry could feel was after: when Hermione and Ron finished watching it, Ron looked absolutely stunned.

“Not bad, hey,” Harry said, ribbing Ron.

Ron’s eyes were wide. “Eh, you were fine. Don’t get a career in acting, mate. But _Neville_. I couldn’t believe he could look so cool!”

Harry attempted smothered Ron with a cushion, while Hermione giggled.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"[...] Why are you so beautiful?"_ \- A client to Tamaki (Draco) (Episode 4)
> 
>  _"Narcissist!"_ \- How Renge (Dennis) describes Tamaki (Draco) (Episode 4)
> 
>  _Hikaru: "It hurts [...]_  
>  _Renge: "Your pain is my pain._ \- When Hikaru (Fred) "falls", with Renge's "voice-over" (changed to George in fic) (Episode 4)


	8. Forge and Gred! Or is it George and Fred??

“Well, that is certainly something,” Molly said, as the end credits to the film rolled.

“I know, right?!” Ron cracked up.

Meanwhile, Harry was plotting Ron’s demise, given that Ron had shown the film to _everyone_ at the Weekly Weasley Sunday.

“Oh, but George, are you alright?” Molly continued. “That fall there looked nasty—”

“It was _Fred_ who fell, mum,” George said. “And he’s fine.”

“It was just acting,” Fred shrugged.

Lee Jordan, who was sitting with Fred on the couch, leaned into Fred. “Seeing you with your brother makes me—”

Whatever he whispered made Fred snort.

“Ah, well then,” Molly said, flustered. “I’ll check on the roast!” she hurried to the kitchen.

George snorted too. “Hey, Ron, Angelina’s got some ideas for the joke shop—” He, Ron and Angelina headed out of the room.

Soon after, Arthur wondered in. “Ahh, George!” he said. He blinked. “Lee, aren’t you dating Fred?”

“Dad,” Fred said, “I _am_ Fred.”

“Oh.” Arthur flushed. “Sorry! It’s just that George has been wearing that ear lately…”

Fred sighed. “Lee, come on. I’m feeling _sick_ of my own parents being unable to tell between us.”

Lee sighed. “Sorry, love.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “How can’t they, though? It’s really obvious.”

Fred bestowed him with a rare, not-sly smile. “You’re special, Harry.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief.

“Let’s play the guess-who’s-Fred today!” Fred and George announced to their small group of clients. A temporarily cascade of light and sparkles hid them from view.

“Forge,” Fred said.

“Gred,” George said. They both tilted their heads at their guests and grinned. “Who is who?”

One of the young witches flustered, looking between the two of them. “Um, you’re George?” she asked, pointing at Fred.

“You’re right!” the twins announced, grinning. “Here’s your prize!” They produced a bouquet of fake flowers.

Harry let them be, but the twins continued to play the game with all their other clients, and the guesses were correct half the time. No-one seemed to be able to tell them apart.

Harry understood that from some of the guests—they hadn’t had time to _really_ know Fred and George. But for Molly and Arthur to be unable to differentiate…

Harry came over to them at the end of the work day. “Err,” he said, catching their attention, “Why were you lying? With the game.”

Fred and George simultaneously shrugged.

“They’re our _guests_ ,” George said. “It’s no fun for them if they lose. And—”

“—it’s fun for us knowing when they’re wrong,” Fred finished.

Harry pursed his lips. “It must be...a little sad to be misnamed all the time.”

Fred patted Harry on the arm. “We do it on purpose.” He winked. “It’s fun.”

But Harry couldn’t let it go. “It’s like what Dennis said, isn’t it? Aside from a select few, you both show an identical front.”

“Those who deserve it,” they both shrugged.

“But how _do_ you tell us apart?” Fred asked.

Harry shrugged. “It’s obvious. I mean, it’s not like you’re both the same. Hermione once told me about how even though identical twins may have the same genetics, the _expression_ of the genetics is different.”

George waved a hand. “Yes, but _how_?”

Harry gave a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know! You just—you carry yourselves differently! You have different expertise at the joke shop! I mean, I have bad eyesight so you both look identical from a glance, but just _being_ around you two, it’s clear that you’re two different people!”

Fred and George gave him a big hug.

“Oh, our _favourite_ little brother,” they sniffled.

Malfoy peeked at them. “Are we having a group hug?”

Harry glared at him. “No. This is between brothers only.”

Malfoy perked up. “How about your daddy?”

Fred and George giggled. “Does that make Pansy your mummy?”

Harry pulled a face.

Fred and George stepped back. “Hey, Draco, guess who’s Fred?”

 _Oh boy,_ Harry thought. Malfoy was one of the most stupid, clueless, self-absorbed wizards ever.

Malfoy gave them a quizzical look. He pointed at Fred. “You are.”

The twins’ eyes sparkled. “Lucky!” They cast the quick spell around themselves that hid them from view, and they reappeared again in different positions. “Guess who’s Fred!” they said again.

Malfoy looked even more confused and pointed out Fred. “Is this a delaying tactic from my hug with Harry?”

“Get stuffed, Malfoy,” Harry said. “You’re not my father!”

“Not your _father_ ,” Malfoy said. “Your _daddy_.”

“That’s even _more_ weird,” Harry said.

“One more time!” Fred and George said. “Guess who’s Fred!”

Yet unfailingly, Malfoy pointed out Fred. “Hey, do I get a prize?”

Fred and George gave Malfoy a considering look. “Nope, since you’re a host. But how do _you_ tell us apart?”

“We’ve worked together for over a year,” Malfoy said. “And we went to _school_ together. Slytherins knew _all about_ your pranks.”

“So you have some secret Slytherin spell to distinguish between us?”

Malfoy gave them an exasperated look. “Why would we need that? Your magical signatures are _clearly_ different. Though, they are not _nearly_ as lovely as Harry’s.”

Fred and George looked at each other.

Harry looked at Malfoy. “Er, how do you sense magical signatures?”

“By _looking?_ ” Malfoy opened his arms. “Give daddy a hug?”

“Nope-nope-nope! Mummy!” Harry ran to hide being Pansy.

Pansy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Draco. Please. Have some decorum.”

Malfoy immediately started to argue back.

Harry rolled his eyes. _Ahh_ , just a typical end of the end of the day at the Host Club, he thought.

At the next Weasley Sunday, George was going around without his fake ear, and Fred was tired enough to mostly stay seated.

“That curse during the battle,” Fred scowled.

George nudged him. “It could be worse. You could be _dead_ , and where would that leave me?”

“Don’t even joke about that, George!” Molly scowled. She wrapped them both into a hug. “I love you both so, so much.”

“ _Mum_ ,” Fred and George both complained. “Yes, yes, we love you too.”

“You don’t have to take off your ear, George, just so that we could tell the difference...I know it helps you hear,” Molly said. “I’m sorry if I’ve mixed you up…”

Over her shoulder, the two of them winked at Harry.

“It’s fine, Mum,” Fred said.

“Sometimes it’s fun to see people get it wrong,” George said.

“And sometimes it’s nice to see people get it right,” Fred said.

“Group hug!” Ginny yelled.

Harry laughed as all the Weasleys swept up together into a pile up.

  


  



	9. At Poor Little Harry’s Place

“Is it true?” Malfoy whispered.

Harry sighed. “What?”

“That you live at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.”

“Yes?”

Malfoy shuddered. “That is such a horrible place. How could you live there?”

“It’s _renovated_ , Malfoy.”

“I helped with his garden,” Neville piped up.

“And we helped take down the wall with Walburga on it,” the twins grinned. They had gleefully ‘helped’ take down _a lot_ of walls.

“But is it...is it _good_?” Malfoy whispered.

“What’s it matter to _you?_ ” Harry said archly.

“Daddy just wants the _best_ for you.”

Harry rolled his eyes and moved on with his jobs.

Come Saturday morning however…

“There’s a large crowd of people outside,” Hermione said.

Harry frowned. ”What?”

“Is that Malfoy?” Ron asked, looking through one of the front-facing windows.

Harry gave an almighty sigh. “Damnit.” He threw on his leather jacket and headed out onto the street, where Malfoy was charming all of Harry’s muggle neighbours.

“Ah, Harry! I didn’t know you were friends with such handsome people!” one of his neighbours tittered, after taking a selfie with Malfoy. She winked at Harry. “Are they all actors?”

Small mercies were that Malfoy and the others were all dressed in proper muggle clothing.

Malfoy pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh. We’re merely here to visit our good friend Harry. No word to the newspapers, please?”

Harry sighed. “Ugh, everyone, come on in.” He glared at Fred and George as they entered. “ _You two_ told him about my house, didn’t you?”

Neville sighed. “Sorry, Harry! It was me. I thought it would be fun...I bought some cake, if that’s alright.”

“It better be big, because Ron’s here,” Harry warned.

Blaise nodded. “It is.”

Ron was waiting in the immediate living room, tapping his feet and looming.

“Well, well, well,” Ron said. “Malfoy. Here. I’ve heard all _about_ you.”

Malfoy froze. “Ah, Weasley.”

The twins whacked Malfoy on the head. “Call him _Ronnikins_!” they ordered.

Parkinson breezed past them all. “Oh, hey, Hermione! Sorry about the unannounced visit.”

Hermione laughed. “Well, with Draco, what can you expect?”

The two of them headed off deeper into the house, chatting.

Harry slowly turned to Ron. “Did _you_ know she was friends with Parkinson?”

Ron shook his head. “I was going to ask you the same question.” They turned to the others.

Blaise shrugged. “It’s Pansy.”

“Let’s have cake!” Neville said. He summoned over plates and cutlery for the coffee table.

“The house looks alright,” Malfoy said, eyes still narrowed.

“Can it, Malfoy,” Ron said. “Of course, it’s good! We all helped Harry fix it up. Wait, no, _you_ didn’t!”

For once, Malfoy fell quiet, accepting his slice of cake without commentary.

Presently, Pansy and Hermione returned. “Pansy’s staying for lunch,” Hermione said. “Harry, would you mind popping out to Tesco for more food? I expect everyone else wants lunch as well.”

Harry sighed heavily. “Fine.”

“Harry, do you mind if Blaise and I check out your backyard in the meanwhile?” Neville asked.

Harry cleared his throat, knowing full well the riot of plants and greenery back there. “Please.”

Neville brightened. “Great. C’mon, Blaise!”

“We want to play with Ronnikins,” Fred and George announced.

Ron rolled his eyes. “I played with you _yesterday_ at the shop!”

“We have some new goods coming out for summer!”

“Oh!” Ron’s eyes lit up. “Sure, then.”

“Is _no-one_ going to help me with the shopping?” Harry said, annoyed.

Malfoy shuffled over. “I can.”

Harry had a flashback to the _last_ time he took Malfoy to Tesco for afternoon tea supplies. Malfoy had wanted to buy everything, and Harry had said _next time_. He sighed. “Very well. But you are paying for any extraneous things.”

“Of course! A genteel wizard does not impose.” Malfoy’s eyes were all happy again.

Despite himself, Harry patted Malfoy on the head.

“It’s like a parent and his kid,” Ron whispered.

“It is,” Fred and George whispered back.

“I can _hear_ you,” Harry said loudly. “C’mon, Malfoy, we can walk there.”

Malfoy trailed behind like a puppy down the streets. “That jacket looks really good on you,” he said, apropos of nothing. “Very suave and daring.”

Harry ducked his head. “You’re just saying that, Malfoy.”

“Perhaps Dennis’s next film should star you as the fast-motorcycle-riding bad-boy wizard,” Malfoy mused. “You would be very dashing.”

Harry’s cheeks heated up. “You better not tell Pansy that!”

“A private showing?” Malfoy teased.

“We’re here at Tesco,” Harry said instead, trying hard to ignore Malfoy’s look. He _knew_ Malfoy was great at complimenting and charming people. It didn’t actually _mean_ anything. “What do you want for lunch?”

Malfoy lit up. “You’re asking _me?_ Can we have fish and chips? My parents _never_ let me have that.”

“Alright, that sounds good.” He let Malfoy push the trolley around (and thus occupied him from buying _everything_ ).

“Let me pay,” Malfoy said when they reached the till.

“Ah, you don’t have to—” Harry started.

Malfoy flashed a gold-plated credit card, and smiled at the cashier. “If you please, ma’am?”

The cashier smiled back. “Oh, um, sure!”

Malfoy winked at her. “Have a lovely day.” He took all the grocery bags before Harry could.

“Right, where did you get that credit card?” Harry asked him the moment they left Tesco.

“From Gringotts?” Malfoy said, looking puzzled. “How else can I pay for the muggle restaurants like the Ritz, or Araki? I’ll take you out, next time.”

Harry rolled his eyes, hard. _Of course, Malfoy would go to the expensive-as-shit places! It’s the_ poor _muggles that he has no idea about!_ “No thanks, I rather _not_ wear a suit to dinner!”

The others were still busy when Harry got back, but there was no way he was letting Malfoy help him cook.

“Ugh, just, go off and talk to someone else,” Harry said.

“May I look around the house?”

“Fine, but don’t break anything!” Harry hoped he wouldn’t regret saying that.

Fish and chips and mushy peas _done_ , Harry hollered for everyone to come down to the dining room.

“Eh, where’s Malfoy?” Harry asked when everyone else filed in.

Ron shrugged. “Who cares? More for me, right?” He yelped suddenly, rubbing his backside.

Parkinson smirked. “He’s up in your Tapestry Room.”

The Tapestry Room was at the very top of the house, while the dining room was on the ground floor. Sighing, Harry told everyone to start eating while he went to fetch Malfoy.

Malfoy was kneeling in front of the Tapestry, hands skimming across its surface.

Harry grimaced. “I forgot that your face would be on there.”

“You restored Aunt Andromeda,” Malfoy said. “And young Teddy Lupin. Does he really have blue hair?”

“He gets it from his mum.”

Malfoy got to his feet. “I noticed some pictures of your parents around the house. You really do look like your dad.”

“Yeah? Snape _hated_ that.”

“There’s a story there,” Malfoy said.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Lunch is ready. Fish and chips, just like you wanted.”

“I would like to visit your parents’ graves one day,” Malfoy admitted. “To pay my respects.”

Harry swallowed past the big lump in his throat. “How about you go see my alive surrogate parents? Arthur and Molly Weasley.”

Malfoy took a step over. “As your…?”

“Harry!” Ron called out.

Harry turned quickly, and knocked into Malfoy, and the two of them fell. Malfoy wrapped his arms around Harry such that Malfoy ended up underneath, hitting the ground with a thump.

All of a sudden, Harry’s face was _really, really_ close to Malfoy’s.

Malfoy’s tongue darted out. “Harry—”

“Ahh! My eyes!” Ron said. “I knew it! You like him!”

Harry scrambled off Malfoy. “It was an accident,” he scowled. “I don’t like Malfoy! We just happen to work together! C’mon, I want to eat lunch _now_.” He stomped past the two of them.

“Wow, _harsh_ ,” Ron said.

“It’s fine,” Malfoy said. “After all, Harry made fish and chips for _me_.”

“What do you mean? Fish and chips is _my_ favourite!” Ron argued.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and let them argue it out.

The next time Harry saw Malfoy again, Malfoy pressed an envelope into Harry’s hands.

“Quidditch tickets, for you and Ron,” he said, smiling.

“Oh, wow, thanks, Malfoy.”

“Oh, and tell him that the Tornados are far superior, will you?”

“Oh no. Not you and Ron too! It’s bad enough with Pansy and _Hermione_ being best friends!”

Malfoy tilted his head. “What’s wrong with daddy and mummy making friends with your friends? This way, we can have a big, harmonious family!”

“You’re not my dad!”

Harry stomped away. Here Harry thought Malfoy was getting better, but no, _typical_ Malfoy!

  


  



	10. Beaches Are Romantic, Right?

“The beach?” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“How about it, Harry?” Fred and George said.

Harry hummed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been there.”

“Can I bring my pot plant, Briar?” Neville asked.

Pansy shrugged. “I have no objections.”

Blaise nodded.

“Then it’s settled!” Malfoy immediately announced. “We can go right away! After all, beaches are _so_ romantic.”

Harry’s mouth dropped. “ _Wait a minute!_ ”

“The portkeys have been booked,” Pansy said. “We’ll be leaving in an hour.”

Harry facepalmed. He was _sure_ there were _legal_ things that meant you couldn’t order portkeys that quickly but... _rich people_. He winced—his face was getting sore from all the facepalms pressing his glasses into his face.

  


  


The bright sun in the sky, the waves lapping gently on shore.

“It’s so beautiful,” a witch murmured as she reclined against Malfoy. “It feels like a dream to see the ocean together with you, Draco.”

“It is not a dream…” Malfoy leaned in. “But I would be honoured to be in your dreams tonight.”

“ _Draco_.”

Harry shivered and resolutely looked out to the ocean. It _was_ pretty, and he should focus on that, instead of the antics of everyone else. He had hoped that it was just all the hosts but...it seemed the clients had come along as well. He sighed and nudged the wet black sand with his foot.

“Harry, you’re not swimming?” asked one of the wizards. An accompanying witch gave Harry a concerned look.

Harry gave a sheepish smile. “I never learned. But I much rather sit back and watch you all enjoy yourselves. It’s sweet.”

The wixes all reddened.

“I—I see,” the wizard stammered.

“ _Are you all having lots of fun, heh?_ ” A low voice purred.

Harry blinked and turned. He frowned. “You look familiar.”

There was a tall wizard, in deep black robes and a hood over his face. His eyes were shadowed by the hood. “We went to Hogwarts together.”

Malfoy wandered over. “Harry, this is Theodore Nott. He graciously allowed us the use of his private beach.”

Harry still didn’t remember, but he nodded. “Oh, thanks, Nott.”

“Call me _Theo_ ,” he said. He reached into his robes and pulled out a full-sized black cat that should _not_ have fit inside his robes. “Please, meet Shattered Mirror,” he intoned.

Harry’s eyes lit up. “It’s so _cute!_ May I?”

Theo nodded, and there might have been the tiniest of smiles on his face. Harry gingerly took the cat into his arms. It made a _roar_ sound and whipped its spiked tail back and forth.

Theo’s head tilted back just a bit, and his eyes glinted. “He likes you.”

Harry handed the cat back. “Who wouldn’t?”

Malfoy coughed.

“I hope you enjoy your stay,” Theo murmured. “I tried to create an atmosphere for everyone’s enjoyment,” he said, sweeping a hand over the beach.

Harry’s eyebrows went up. Now _that_ explained the black sand and the odd black cat-like rock formations further down the beach, and the black deck chairs and umbrellas and the black water that Pansy had told him to serve. “Thanks.”

Theo bowed. “See you for dinner,” he said ominously, and disapparated.

“He seemed nice,” Harry said.

“Harry, would you like to walk along the beach with me?” Malfoy asked. He held out his hand and smiled that charming smile.

Harry gave him a flat look. “Why? I need to serve my clients some drinks. Weren’t _you_ the one who invited them?” He rolled his eyes and headed over to the old witch-and-wizard couple under the umbrellas. They were some of his favourite clients.

Harry held up a jug of drink. “Would you like some?”

The wizard gave a suspicious look. “That colour is surely not healthy.”

“The black beverage is simply aesthetic,” Harry said, laughing. “To go with the rest of the black beach.”

The old witch chuckled. “Young people these days!”

Harry pouted. “Ma’am, you’re plenty young. I saw the pair of you dancing the other day!”

The wizard tittered. “Perhaps so.”

Harry grinned and made each of them a little black coconut drink with little black umbrellas and straws, and took a chair beside them.

“Should you be playing out in the water with the young folk?” the witch chided.

“Maybe I was in the mood for wisdom from my elders,” Harry quipped back.

The old wizard snorted. “Why, back in _my_ day—”

The back of Harry’s neck tingled. Someone was in danger.

“Please excuse me,” he said to the old witch and wizard. “But there is something I must attend to.” Waiting just long enough for them to shoo him off, Harry scanned the beach and zeroed in a group of _strangers_.

Immediately, Harry apparated over. The group of unfamiliar wizards were approaching some of the witches who were collecting shells along the shore.

“Hmm, rich little witches, eh?” one of the wizards was saying.

“Isn’t it so boring playing by yourself?” another said.

“Why don’t you play with us?”

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Wands slapped into Harry’s palm. “Stop that,” he commanded.

The wizards all turned to him. One of them smirked. “Why, if it isn’t Harry Potter. Schmoozing up with the purebloods these days?”

“Better than going around _assaulting_ people. Which looked rather what you were doing,” Harry deadpanned. Nonchalantly, he threw their wands behind him.

“Hey!” one snapped. He lunged at Harry.

Harry merely raised his wand and cast _Incarcerous_. He raised his wand and cast ropes around all the others as well. “Now, should I call the Aurors…” he tapped his wand against his thigh in contemplation.

“Harry! Are you okay?” Malfoy rushed over.

Harry shrugged. “Yeah. They were really easy to disarm.”

Malfoy turned his nose up at the pile of bound wizards. “This is a private beach. You’re _trespassing_. I will deal with them.”

Harry took a step back. “Okay.” He turned to the witches. “Are you alright?”

One of them had a hand over her mouth, and she nodded. “That was so heroic, Harry!”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “It was nothing. What are you collecting them for?”

The witches glanced at each other and giggled. “A memento of today,” one of them said.

“Oh! That’s a good idea.” Harry could see himself rubbing it in Ron’s face, and it would be nice to get some for his favourite old witch-and-wizard couple. He promptly joined the witches in collecting them.

“Harry, let me help you,” Malfoy said. “Which do you like best?”

“Go and deal with _your_ guests,” Harry said. “I want to have fun without you.”

Malfoy gulped and nodded. “If you are having fun...enjoy yourself, Harry, ladies.” Malfoy performed a bow despite not wearing formal robes and walked down the beach, cutting a lonely figure.

 _Not lonely_ , Harry quickly amended. There were _heaps_ of guests who wanted Malfoy’s time.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"The beach?"_ \- Haruhi (Harry) to the other hosts (Episode 8)
> 
>  _Client: "It's so beautiful [...] it's like a dream."_  
>  _Tamaki: "It's no dream [...]"_ \- Client to Tamaki (Draco) (Episode 8)


	11. Missing Malfoy

As the day winded down, Harry and the other hosts retreated to private wing of the sea-side manor house that Theo owned.

They all sat around in one of the lounge rooms, and Theo took out a set of Cards Against Humanity.

“What is that smell?” Harry read out.

Theo slid a card onto the table. _The choking smog of industrial capitalism._

Harry’s eyebrows went up. “Wow, okay.”

“I’ll try,” Neville said determinedly. “In space, no one can hear you—blank?”

Theo slid a card onto the table. _Gargle as all your blood bubbles and boils and your body swells and your breath becomes naught_.

Malfoy sighed. “Okay, how about this?” he took a card. “Blank—that’s how I want to die.” Belatedly, Malfoy scowled.

Theo slid a card onto the table. _Cat videos_.

Harry giggled despite himself. “Hey, where’s Shattered Mirror?”

Theo smiled and opened up his black robes just a little, enough for an equally black cat to pop his head out.

“ _Cute_ ,” Harry said, beckoning the cat over. Theo shuffled closer, and soon the two of them were bestowing attention and love.

Malfoy cleared his throat loudly. “You like that cat more than me!”

“Who wouldn’t?” Harry said distractedly. “It’s not like you’re cuddly and soft and adorable and cute. You’re just annoying.”

“Harry,” Theo said lowly. “Would you like to come back here again? Just you…”

“Sure!”

“Harry,” Malfoy started.

“ _Busy_.”

Malfoy swallowed, sighed, and stumbled away.

By the time Harry emerged out of his cat-daze for dinner, Malfoy had disappeared. Malfoy didn’t appear for dinner, but Harry just shrugged. Theo had produced a vast array of food.

“Draco doesn’t miss meals,” Neville said, concerned and eyeing the door.

A weird feeling went down Harry’s stomach. “He can just call a house-elf or go to the kitchens, right?” he asked, a little hesitant.

Pansy pursed her lips, and her eyes sharpened on Harry. “This is Theo’s house, not Draco’s.”

Theo got up from the table. “I will look for him,” he whispered. “Please enjoy your meal.” He left the room.

The sounds of eating were subdued. But as the minutes passed, Theo did not return.

Blaise gave the lightest of sighs. “I will look also.”

“I’ll come with you,” Neville said immediately, a determined light in his eye. “Don’t worry about us, Harry.” And so Blaise and Neville left.

Outside, rain started lashing against the windows.

George huffed. “This is so—”

“—uncool,” Fred finished. “ _We’re_ the oldest.”

George nodded. “ _We’ll_ go track everyone down.”

“Stay put,” they directed at Pansy and Harry, the only two remaining.

Harry stared at the dessert on the table. “It would be bad to eat it without the others…”

Pansy snorted. “It’s not as though we are _lacking_ in food. Harry.” Her tone became more serious. “You’ve been at the host club for months now. _Fun_ aside, do you understand the club’s purpose?”

Harry frowned at her. “You said it was fun, isn’t it? And charity donations, though it doesn’t really make sense…All of Malfoy’s clients _know_ that he’s not going to go out with any of them, so why do they act like that anyway?”

“It’s a fantasy, a game,” Pansy said sombrely. “Draco set up the Host Club after his parole ended. A place to socialise, make friends, and all for good causes. But despite it all...Draco remains lonely.”

Harry pursed his lips. “That sounds fake, but okay.”

Pansy snorted. “Believe what you may.” She stood up. “I’m going looking for Draco. He _is_ my oldest friend.”

And then Harry was alone.

“ _This sucks_ ,” he sighed heavily.

Lightning flashed outside, soon followed by thunder.

Harry got up and headed out into the hall. Where would Malfoy be? That the others hadn’t found him yet?

A part of Harry’s mind whispered, _the girls’ bathroom_.

“Surely not…” he muttered. But nonetheless, with nothing else to go on, he started looking for the bathrooms. There were no girls’ bathroom to be had, however: they were all gender neutral. Harry pursed his lips and opened the doors anyway.

He had to snort. Malfoy was curled up on a cushioned seat in the miniature “lobby” of one the bathrooms.

“Malfoy.”

Malfoy startled. His lips tightened, and he placed a hand over his eyes and sighed. “Leave me, Potter.”

Harry sighed. “I can’t. Everyone’s looking for you.”

“Then you should have let _them_ find me. I can see it in your eyes. You can barely _stand_ me. I’ve bothered you enough, like those wizards harassing our guests today...”

Harry snorted. “Well, _you’re_ the one who keeps acting so stupid and dramatic. You’re an adult, and we’ve been through a _war_.”

Malfoy sighed. “Have you forgotten? The Host Club is a place _away_ from troubles. Of _course,_ the War happened. Your War Orphans charity is on our list! And _all_ of this is only possible because of you, and I _know_ it.” He groaned and turned his head away. “Just go.”

“There are more effective ways to _donate_ to charity, than making clients pay up,” Harry had to say. “You could have an actual job. Or _your_ vaults.”

“The vaults that I cannot access?” Malfoy sneered. “My father controls my vaults, and until I submit to his plans, until I marry who he wants and spawn pureblood babies, _that_ is not going to happen. The entire Host Club venture was initially funded by Blaise and Pansy. I live with them! Everything—it’s all _them_. I’m just a _pretty face_.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked. “I didn’t realise.”

“Don’t pity me,” Malfoy snarled.

“It wasn’t pity!” Harry retorted. “Seriously, you—”

Thunder crashed. All the spell lights flickered out and the room plunged into darkness.

Harry blinked, unsteady. He drew his wand, and tried to cast a _Lumos_ , but nothing happened.

“Shit, Malfoy?”

“Just _leave_.”

The room felt hot and stuffy. Harry growled and tried another Lumos. The tip of his wand lit up, but it was weak. “What’s happening?”

“Lightning,” Malfoy said. “Electricity can interfere with magic.”

“Come back with me,” Harry coaxed. “We were having dinner, which you _missed_.”

“I’ll just starve.”

Harry became distressed, and he took a cautious step forward. “Malfoy! You can’t say that! You have to eat three meals a day!” His foot bumped into something, and he winced.

Thunder crashed again, and his lumos flickered—but held.

A rustle of clothing in the dark, and a soft light sprung on Malfoy’s hand. Malfoy’s features were sharp and dark. “You can do better. You’re one of the strongest wizards of the century.”

Harry glared at Malfoy and cast _Lumos Maxima_ , and this time, the room flooded with light.

“You’re _not_ going to starve,” Harry said. He reached out and grabbed Malfoy’s hand. “You’re coming with me.”

Malfoy shook his head, but he didn’t yank his hand away.

Harry gave Malfoy’s hand a squeeze. “Come on. It won’t be Wizarding Monopoly without you.”

“Against Pansy? I’m not a stupid Gryffindor.”

Harry rolled his eyes and dragged Malfoy out. All the magic lights flickered back to life.

“Ah, there you are,” Pansy said, coming down the hallway. She looked at their hands pointedly, and then glanced to the bathroom door. She snickered. “So _that_ ’s what you were doing?”

Harry dropped Malfoy’s hand. “We weren’t!” He frowned at her, wondering if this entire thing had been all _set up_.

Malfoy sighed. “It truly wasn’t.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “Well, it looks like Theo has gotten the house magic working again. You better not miss dinner without notifying me in the future, Draco.”

“You’re not my keeper.” Malfoy shook his head, and his countenance changed. “Harry here wishes to play Wizarding Monopoly! Let me acquire some canapes to eat while I watch!”

Harry thought he saw Pansy frown at him, but when he blinked, Pansy was smirking once again.

“Prepare to lose,” she said.

As it turned out, Harry _definitely_ lost. But he had an excuse. There was just something _off_ about Malfoy, the way his expression was duller than usual, and Harry wanted to get to the bottom of it.

  


  



	12. The End of the Host Club?!

  


Blue skies and warm sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the Host Club's Mansion. Piano and violin music filled the hallways, as did the scent of flowers and fruits. All the hosts, including Harry, were dressed up as magical knights, for a special Host Club open house event celebrating the summer.

“This will be the best one yet,” Malfoy said grandly. He affixed a rose to everyone’s armour, including Harry’s. “Very handsome,” he said, but there was no gushing of _you’re-so-cute-give-daddy-a-hug_.

No, Malfoy hadn’t called Harry _cute_ since that beach trip. He treated Harry like all of the other hosts. Which suited Harry, but left him unsteady. Which was the _real_ Malfoy? Were any of these Malfoys real, or were they all faces he put on?

Unlike usual, they were all congregated at the entrance hall to the mansion, as guests arrived outside the property and strolled up the white-paved path.

“Welcome to the Host Club,” Malfoy said to each group of guests, sweeping out an arm. Petals would fall around the incoming guests, and most of them would be charmed—or would let themselves be charmed.

Donations were necessary to enter, and Pansy took care of that with her clipboard—charmed to look like an open scroll. Neville served drinks and sweet treats, and Blaise provided a listening ear and sparse advice. Fred and George took groups of people around the mansion on tours.

Harry was there to smile and play talk-support.

“It’s quite lovely, isn’t it?” one of the witches said to Harry.

“I suppose,” Harry said. “But it’s more fun with you all here.” After all, _people_ were more important than _place_.

The cluster of wixes gave him smitten looks. He smiled awkwardly back.

Harry tilted his head so that he looked up at them. “Um, would you like a drink?”

Harry was busy serving them from the floating trays, when the temperature in the hall suddenly dropped. Harry immediately turned to the entrance.

“ _Father_.” Malfoy was bowing stiffly. “Welcome to the Host Club.”

Lucius Malfoy was dressed in severe black robes. “How quaint,” he murmured—yet his voice carried.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. _A subtle sonorus_.

“It is amazing what money can do...Friends and debtors do not make easy bedfellows.” Lucius Malfoy looked pointedly at Pansy.

“If you would allow me to say, sir, the vision of the Host Club is entirely Draco’s,” Pansy said. “And without that vision, this venture would not exist.”

“A Malfoy is not _subservient_ ,” Lucius said. His eyes tracked the room and landed squarely on Harry. “Ah, so rumours are true. Harry Potter works _here_!”

“Sir, you must make a donation,” Pansy said.

Lucius waved a dismissive hand. “Potter, I would like to talk with you.”

Harry glanced at his clients. “Sorry, I’ll be back soon.” He quickly headed over. And cast a privacy charm around him and Lucius.

“You wanted to talk?”

Lucius sneered. “My son was wavering. He was _about_ to agree to my terms, until _you_ came along. Disrupting the plans of others, aren’t you, Mr. Potter?”

Harry gave him a flat look. “You mean Voldemort?” he drawled. “He disrupted _my_ life first.”

“You _heroes_ always think you’re _right_.” Lucius sneered. “My son was supposed to marry Astoria Greengrass, and _you_ were the direct cause of breaking that engagement. You and that Veela Delacour. Leave the Host Club, Mr. Potter. It would do you no good to stay.”

Harry’s fingers twitched. He wanted his wand, badly. “And what do you mean by that?”

A flash of red light in the corner of Harry’s eye—Harry turned in time to see Pansy struck, a blunt _clanggg_ that hit her armour. Harry tracked the path back to see a witch, wand still pointed at Pansy.

“You’re a _disgrace_ and an embarrassment to our family,” the witch hissed. “Involving yourself in this _Host Club_ , nothing more than a filthy _hag!_ Pansy, _come here_ , right now!” The witch pointed to the ground next to her.

Pansy gave a mocking bow and straightened. “ _Mother_. How thoughtful of you to make it all the way here. Perhaps you should gather knowledge before speaking.”

The witch snorted. “Stop playing _games_ , Pansy. Stop playing the little _queer_ girl. I have set up a marriage contract for you with a wizard from the Continent. Your skills are wasted here. And if you don’t...you’ll be cut off from your vaults. And that includes this property.”

Pansy’s lips tightened.

Harry drew his wand. “Calm down,” he said.

“Ah, Lady Parkinson,” Lucius said. “Our goals align. Draco was just about to disband the Host Club.”

Malfoy opened his mouth—

“It is his mother’s wish.” Lucius smiled innocently.

And Malfoy paled.

“Doesn’t Malfoy’s mother want him to be happy?” Harry interrupted. He felt prickly from Malfoy’s sudden stare.

“I understand you are honourable, and I know of your debt,” Lucius said. “Consider it paid. It is but a paltry sum.”

 _One-hundred-thousand-galleons is not_ paltry, Harry frowned.

“I will be gracious, Draco, and allow you to complete the rest of today’s event. But afterwards, I expect you at the Manor for dinner with your mother and I.”

Malfoy swallowed. “Yes, Father.”

Lucius tipped his head and strode out.

“Why can’t _you_ be pious towards your parents as well?” Lady Parkinson scowled at Pansy.

“Then don’t make a scene, Mother,” Pansy said. “If Draco is visiting his parents tonight, then I will grant you that: I will come by for dinner. Where we can discuss this in private.”

Lady Parkinson smiled, looking perfectly innocently. “Lovely. I look forward to it, my daughter.” And then she too left.

Harry exhaled and tucked his wand away.

“My apologies for that interruption,” Malfoy said, bowing deeply to their guests. “Please do not worry, it all shall be sorted.” He smiled calmly, and the temperature in the hall became normal, and sparkles and roses flowed from him.

“Ah! Would you like this cupcake?” Neville asked one of the guests. “It’s in the shape of a cactus!”

All around the room, wixes relaxed, and chatter began once more.

But Harry would like to say that he _knew_ Malfoy and Pansy better now. He _saw_ them glance at each other, the tightening in their eyes.

Malfoy caught his gaze and grinned and winked. “Don’t worry, Harry. Have _fun_ , enjoy yourself. These are not your problems to solve, and they’re certainly not life threatening.”

Harry twisted his lips. “If you say so,” he said dubiously. He gave Malfoy one last searching look, but Malfoy’s smile only brightened. Even when Harry tried his trick of looking away and looking back quickly.

No such luck.

“Oh, Harry,” one of Harry’s main guests said, drawing his attention away. “We are still friends, even if the Host Club disbands?”

Harry smiled back. “Of course. This is just a place, but the people remain.”

 _Or would they?_ Harry didn’t say. _If Pansy is getting married off on the Continent, and Malfoy doing pureblood things, they might not be around in the future at all..._

“This isn’t looking good,” Hermione said, pushing the newspaper over to Harry. They, and Ron, were all having breakfast the next day.

It was an article about Narcissa Malfoy’s ill health...and Draco Malfoy’s engagement with a pureblood witch from Sweden.

“I _still_ think Lucius Malfoy was lying,” Harry said.

“Are you going today?” Ron asked.

“Of course.”

When Harry flooed into the Host Club mansion— _early!_ —he was spat out into a dim back room.

“What?”

The other hosts were clustered around a central table, and Malfoy sat at the head of it.

Malfoy sighed. “Take a seat, Harry.”

“You’re ending the Host Club,” Harry said flatly.

Malfoy gave him a hollow smile. “You thought it was silly.”

“That was my _first_ impression,” Harry retorted. “You’re not really going to marry a random witch from Europe, are you?”

Malfoy tilted his chin up. “You don’t understand.”

“Then damn _tell_ me.”

“My mother is ill. She wishes for grandchildren.”

“Sick doesn’t mean _dying_. And kids take at least nine months, not including your wedding. If she wants grandchildren _now_ , why don’t you _adopt?_ ”

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, but then closed it and frowned.

“Draco…” Neville started.

Malfoy sighed and shook his head and looked around at everyone gathered. “The Host Club may have been my vision. But dreams are just that. It is _everyone_ here that made it come to life. And therefore, I hand over the leadership to you all. I’ve had a great time working here, and I wish you all the best with whichever direction you take the Host Club.”

Neville sniffed. “Draco…”

Malfoy bowed his head. “This is my decision.” He turned his head to Pansy.

Pansy sighed. “I’m staying. My mother can stuff it—she’s not getting my _money-making-skills_ without my queerness.” She smirked. “And the deeds to this mansion is under _my_ name: I’d made the transfer a while ago. We will resume normal host club activities on Monday.” She fixed everyone with a look. “You’re all free to leave; take the days till then off.”

Malfoy stood up, and one-by-one gave everyone a handshake. When he got to Harry…

“You’re a natural host, Harry. Smile, and everyone will fall for you. But you don’t have to stay. My father was serious about paying off your debt, and Pansy has marked down that it’s cleared.” He patted Harry on the back and turned back to the others. Holding a hand out in a final goodbye, he stepped into the floo and disappeared.

“This isn’t _right_ ,” Harry muttered.

“It’s Draco’s decision,” Pansy said. “Family obligations _are_ important.”

Harry couldn’t believe though. He couldn’t understand why Malfoy would _give up_ like this.

Monday came, and there was no Malfoy at the Host Club.

Harry tried his best. Everyone tried their best, but Malfoy’s presence had been _large_ , and friendly, and charming and dramatic and over-the-top and brought a sense of _fantasy_.

Without Malfoy though, Pansy seemed too sharp, the twins too malicious, Neville too childish and Blaise too absent, and Harry too awkward.

It wasn’t fun anymore.

And then the next day came, and the next, and still, Malfoy didn’t appear.

And by the end of the week, the papers were already announcing the “end in sight” for the Host Club.

“This is bad,” Pansy muttered.

“How about Theo?” Blaise suggested. “Perhaps he could take Draco’s role.”

“No. We’re going to have...a bachelor auction. Including myself. We’ll draw interest again. And at the very least, we’ll go out with a _bang_ instead of a whimper.”

Harry’s stomach turned at the thought of an auction, but for once, he agreed with Pansy’s sentiments.

Now if only Malfoy was here, damn it. Except the papers had caught pictures of him with that rumoured witch from Sweden, leaving Harry feeling nauseous and hot. Because he was angry. Angry that Malfoy would abandon them like that.

 _That he would abandon me like that_ , the smallest of voices whispered.

  


  



	13. Maybe You’re My Love

Harry pulled at the collar of his robes and flinched when Pansy slapped his hand away.

“Stay _sharp_ , Potter,” she growled. She looked over everyone one last time, and then cast the spell that started the music, and therefore, the Host Club Bachelor Auction. It was set in the largest ballroom in the Host Club building: the place had been re-outfitted for the event, with a stage and hidden backstage at one end, and chairs in lines.

Pansy had them all file out onto the stage. As Harry tried not to squirm under the spotlights, Pansy spoke about how the Host Club came to be, its vision and mission to donate to charity, and therefore, tonight’s purpose.

The hall was _packed_ , and even though the auction itself was explicitly nonsexual—so said the contract Pansy had drawn up—the bids came in fast, as one-by-one, everyone was auctioned off, until it was Harry remaining.

“We start at _one-thousand_ galleons,” Pansy said.

Despite Pansy’s vetting of the audience, _Harry Potter_ was still a household name regardless. The bids climbed, fast, until it was just two people: a witch and a wizard battling it out. The witch won at _almost_ one-hundred-thousand galleons, so close to the price of the item that Harry had broken that started this whole mess.

“And that concludes the auction! Thank you so much for attending! Rest assured that absolutely _all_ of the proceeds will go to charity! Will the winners of the auction please meet us at the stage.”

Harry shifted uneasily.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Neville patted him. “It’ll be fine. It’ll just be like a normal Host Club session, but longer.”

“Be brave!” Fred added.

“You killed Voldemort, after all!” George said.

Harry scowled at them. “You two were bought by the same person! At least you’re together. How am I meant to live up to over-ninety-thousand galleons worth? In one day?”

Pansy gave him a smile. “Bidders think you are worth it the way you are. And it’s for _charity_. Now.” She turned to approaching winning bidders, and sorted out who matched up with who, and had everyone sign contracts.

The witch, named Amelia, who had won Harry was literally average in every single way, with average height, average brown eyes and average black hair. But there was something about the way she _looked_ at Harry that had him puzzling hard.

“You can schedule your dates fairly freely, but preferably they’ll occur in the next fortnight,” Pansy was saying. “I’ll give everyone some time to organise that right now.”

“So, Amelia,” Harry said, clearing his throat. “I’m free, so whenever you are?”

Amelia gave him a sad smile. “Are you free right now?”

“Er, yes.” He turned to Pansy. “Can we do our date thing right now?”

Pansy looked at Amelia more carefully. And then, she smirked, just a bit. “If you both agree, then yes.”

“Okay.” Harry turned to Amelia. “Okay. You had a place in mind?” Harry narrowed his eyes. “Wait, you _planned_ to win me from the very beginning.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Let us take a walk in the gardens, here.”

After a moment, Harry held out his hand. “If you want to.”

Amelia curled her hand and let Harry take them through the Host Club mansion and out to the gardens.

It was late evening, with a tiny bit of twilight left. Spell lights lined the garden paths as the night flowers bloomed.

“So, um, Amelia, what’s your favourite colour?”

“Green,” she answered immediately.

“Slytherin?”

“Green like your eyes,” she said. “Harry, I must confess that I have been selfish.” She took back her hand and stepped away from Harry.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t you have to be to win an auction like this?”

She shook her head. “Look into my eyes.”

A little suspiciously, Occlumency shields poorly up, Harry did so.

Slowly, Amelia’s brown eyes were changing colour.

Changing to _dark grey_ , dark in the low light of the garden. Her black hair slowly paled, and her skin lightened, and she became taller—

Harry stumbled back. “Shit. _Malfoy_.”

“My _mother_ somehow convinced my father to give me access to my vaults,” Malfoy confessed. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being _bought_ by another wix. At least this way...we can part ways, and you don’t have to go on a compulsory date with anyone.”

“Jealous?” Harry said, before the rest of Malfoy’s words caught up with him. “Wait, you _don’t_ want a date with me?”

“ _Harry_. Don’t make me say it.”

“Say it. Don’t you think you _owe_ me, after forcing me to work at the Host Club, and then _abandoning_ me and everyone else?”

Malfoy winced. “You’re _cute_ , do you understand?” Malfoy wrung his hands. “You’re so cute, and I just want to pinch your cheeks, want you to give me a hug. It’s a _good_ thing that I’m gone. Maybe when I’m away from you, I can put myself back together again.”

“But I—you were _serious_?”

“When am I _not_?”

 _All the time_ , Harry was about to say. But he realised then that there was a difference between being serious, and meaning what you said, and acting versus being earnest.

Malfoy’s light-hearted demeanour hid things underneath.

Like the fact that Malfoy _actually_ liked Harry.

Malfoy liked Harry.

“Like-like?” Harry blurted.

Malfoy nodded tersely. “All the more reason for us to separate.”

“But you don’t want to have a date with me.”

“Of _course,_ I want one. And no, it’s not even a problem with my so-called fiancée. Father thinks he can force it, but Iris is a modern witch. She won’t marry without love. It’s about being _mutual_ about it.”

“You’re serious.”

Malfoy nodded.

Harry’s hands were sweaty. His heart was beating too fast. All those looks, those touches, those compliments...Malfoy had been _truthful?_ “Maybe...maybe we can try. One date. Something _serious_.”

Malfoy gave a tentative smile. “Then, I will pick you up tomorrow?”

Harry agreed, and they settled on a time, and dress code.

“Let me take you home,” Malfoy said. “I can apparate through the wards.” And so he did, apparating Harry down to the front of door of Grimmauld Place.

Malfoy looked as though he wanted to say something more. But a beat later, he gave Harry a wry smile and disapparated away.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the living room.

“How did it go?” Hermione jumped up immediately.

Harry gave a shifty chuckle. “Er, I have a date with Draco Malfoy tomorrow?”

“Oh my goodness!’

Ron stared at him. “I _told_ you so. Seriously, it’s like _you’re_ the one with the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

Harry tried to smother him with a cushion.

 

 

Harry was dressed in casual clothing, bright and early. Malfoy had told him not to eat breakfast either.

When Malfoy apparated in, Harry immediately said, “I’m hungry. Are we doing some kind of rollercoaster ride?”

Malfoy gave him an odd look. “What in the world is a rollercoaster ride?” He shook his head. “No, today, we are doing a _food tour_.” He held out his hand. “If you will allow me, first stop is breakfast. In Poland.”

With ease (and Harry hoped, with legal permission), Malfoy hop-apparated them via France to Poland for breakfast by one of the beaches to watch the sunrise.

Harry tried not to linger too long on Malfoy’s face, instead tucking into the various miniature open-faced sandwiches Malfoy had ordered for them with a flash of his good credit card.

“Not very romantic,” Harry said as he stuffed the last of the bread in his mouth.

Malfoy shook his head, eyes heavy on Harry’s face. “You seemed to distaste it, back at the Host Club.”

Harry shrugged uncomfortably.

Malfoy stood up. Averting his eyes, he held out a hand. “Would you like a walk down the beach?”

Harry froze, staring at the proffered hand. “I’m not one of your guests.”

Malfoy’s hand retreated. “You never were,” he said, looking away. “Not even when you first stumbled in.”

Harry gave an awkward laugh and walked alongside Malfoy, not too close. “Do I _look_ like someone who wants a fantasy?”

Malfoy gave him a look. “Never?”

Harry couldn’t answer that. Instead, he looked at the landscape.

After that, Malfoy took him to the large markets, buying Harry multiple treats. In the jostling, Harry found himself pressed close to Malfoy, but when Malfoy didn’t say anything about that, neither did Harry.

“Why the Host Club?” Harry asked, when they were finally free of the noisy market. He looked at Malfoy, instead of the old historical buildings Malfoy was trying to show him. “Why _didn’t_ you just get a job?”

Malfoy shook his head. “Why not? I had the skills, and the manner the poise that my mother worked hard to teach me.”

“Customer service?” Harry suggested.

Malfoy gave him an affronted look. “Harry, can you _really_ imagine me in such a role?”

Harry grinned, shrugging. “I mean, your posh accent’s pretty great.”

“I would never worry my mother so,” Malfoy said.

“You like your mum, don’t you?” Harry said. “Not so much about your dad...”

“Harry. _You_ don’t want me to talk about my father.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I’m never going to like him.”

“And I don’t expect you to.” Malfoy sighed. “Even if we were...”

“Were?”

Malfoy shook his head. “Don’t you like these buildings?”

Harry shrugged. “They’re just old buildings. We’ve heaps of them in London.”

“Very well.”

Malfoy took Harry’s arm and apparated them to a nature reserve instead. Malfoy hired them two brooms, and with the sense of nostalgic exhilaration, Harry flew through the trees, and over them, ascending with the natural rise of the land.

It was with regret that Harry had to land when his stomach started growling. “We should do that again,” he said, smiling giddily.

Malfoy’s cheeks inexplicably pinked. “Of course, Harry.” He held out his arm for the next apparition jump, and Harry took it without hesitation.

For lunch, Malfoy took them to a small restaurant tucked in the cliffs between the trees and the ocean.

Harry had to shake his head. “How do you _know_ all of these places?”

“A gentlewizard should be aware of the world around him,” Malfoy said.

“Have you _really_ been all over Europe?”

Malfoy gave him a confused look. “We are wizards, Harry. Apparition across the Schengen Area is simple.”

“How about _outside_ Europe?”

Malfoy gave him a fond smile. “Well, yes...”

After their lunch, Harry was glad for the steady stroll through one of Europe’s Botanical Gardens that sprawled around an old, large white fancy building. “We should have more flowers like these at the Host Club,” Harry pointed out. “Roses all the time is boring.”

“Bring that up with Neville,” Malfoy said, not meeting Harry’s eye.

Harry pursed his lips. “Malfoy...”

“Would you like to head inside the Palace?” Malfoy said instead. “It is quite beautiful inside as well.” Before Harry could answer, Malfoy had placed a firm hand on Harry’s back, leading him towards the entrance.

Harry sighed. “Fine. As long as I can grab some books for Hermione.”

“The gift shop has many,” Malfoy promised. “I will spare no expense for you. Truly.”

As it turned out, Malfoy also booked them in for afternoon tea in the Palace. Each tiny slice of cake costed more than a whole Tesco cake, but Malfoy just passed his credit card without worry.

“So is _this_ what afternoon tea’s supposed to be like?” Harry puzzled at all the different sweet and savoury treats set out on their table.

“A _British_ afternoon tea is not the same,” Malfoy said. He poured them both tea, and delicately took a sip. “Do you like this?”

Harry sipped his tea. “I suppose.” Tea was tea, there wasn’t that much difference. “I mean, the company’s more important, don’t you think?” He smiled and rolled his eyes.

Malfoy ducked his head. “You’re a _natural_ ,” he mumbled.

Harry gave him weird look. “What?”

“A natural flier,” Malfoy said.

Harry grinned. “Thanks, Malfoy.”

Malfoy met his gaze. “My pleasure,” he said meaningfully.

Harry squirmed and took a bit of cake.

“This water is _definitely_ warm enough to swim in,” Harry said, looking at the half-naked muggles in the surf off Spain. The sun was beginning to set, and lights dotted the beach, followed along with the sound of music and chatter.

“Then why don’t you?” Malfoy said.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy. “You just want to see me half-naked too.”

“You—you _know_ I think you’re cute,” Malfoy scowled. “It doesn’t matter _how_ much you wear.”

Harry flushed. He cleared his throat. “Let’s just have dinner.”

Malfoy nodded and led them one of the beach-side restaurants.

A candle flickered between them on the table, sat upon wooden decking right over the sand.

“Have you _really_ never kissed a girl?” Harry had to say, as a waiter brought them their food. He’d seen Malfoy almost-kiss countless guests at the Host Club.

The waiter snorted, and Malfoy scowled, waiting until they were gone to answer.

“I’ve kissed Pansy and my mother on their cheek,” he said primly.

Harry had to laugh. “Doesn’t count, Malfoy.” He shook his head in disbelief. “How about a boy? Ever kissed any?”

Malfoy cleared his throat. “No.”

“So...if _you_ had been picked at the Winter Ball, _that_ would have been your first kiss?”

Malfoy’s silence was answer enough.

“It’s not that big and scary,” Harry said. “It’s not all that romantic as it sounds, especially if your teeth clack together.”

The space around Malfoy darkened. “I see.”

Harry gave an exasperated sigh. “And yet, you kept calling yourself my _daddy_.”

“What is that feeling of protectiveness then? I wanted the best for you at the Host Club. But...” Malfoy cleared his throat. “I admit I was misnaming. Would you like dessert?” he asked abruptly.

“Er—okay.” Harry's stomach flipped when Malfoy ordered them two separate desserts instead of sharing.  _Not that I wanted to share..._ he told himself.

“Well,” Malfoy said quietly, as they walked along the beach. The party-goers along the beach had gotten rowdier, but Malfoy had cast a charm around them that muffled the sounds of the muggles and left the sound of the waves. The sun was setting, yellow and red painting the sky. “This concludes the date. I can take you back home.”

“It was great,” Harry admitted. “A bit dizzy with all the apparition, but fun. Even if I bet you can find all this food back in London if you pay enough.”

“But you lose the _atmosphere_ ,” Malfoy said.

Harry sobered. “Just as how we lost the atmosphere at the Host Club without you, Malfoy.”

Malfoy had a pained look. “Will you ever call me Draco?”

“Huh?” Harry gave him a frown. “What do you mean?”

“You call everyone else by their _name_. But clearly, I am still nothing but my _family_ …”

Harry straightened. “Draco,” he tried it. “Draco,” he repeated.

 _Draco_. It felt intimate. It felt intimate, and it felt meaningful when Draco suddenly inhaled sharply.

“Harry…” he whispered back. With a pained sound, he turned his head away. “I can’t—I can’t do this. Let me take you home. You don’t have to force yourself.”

Harry swallowed, his chest tightening. He wondered if it meant that maybe, just maybe, he might fancy Draco back a tiny little bit. “Draco.”

When Draco didn’t look at him, Harry said it again.

“ _Draco_.”

Draco glanced at him.

“Come back with me. Come back to the Host Club.”

“I want to make my mother happy.”

“Then _invite her_ to the Host Club. Let her see that _you’re_ happy.”

“You think so?”

He looked so damn hopeful, that Harry immediately nodded. “Your mum loves you, I know it.”

“But it will be unsteady between us.”

“We’re adults, we can deal with it. _I_ can deal with it. Look, Draco, you have to _try_. You never know—what if it _works?_ If it doesn’t, you won’t be any _worse_ off.”

“Very well.”

Harry gave a full grin. “Yes! That’s great!” He hugged Draco impulsively. “I’ll see you and your mother tomorrow?”

Draco blinked.

“Um, Draco?” Harry stepped back.

Draco gave him a dazed look. “I’ll try.”

“Let _me_ apparate back,” Harry said, a little concerned. He was even more concerned when Draco agreed to it, but Harry soon pushed that out of his mind. Draco was coming back to the Host Club.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Maybe you're my love_ \- lyrics in the opening theme song.


	14. A Rose By All Names

“No fart jokes,” Pansy said to Fred and George sternly.

Fred and George put on identical pouts. “Older witches _love_ vulgarity!” they protested.

“This is Lady Narcissa Malfoy,” Pansy said sternly. “Treat her like you would treat the _Queen_.”

Fred and George sighed. “Fine.”

Pansy, with Neville’s help, had the host club room done up bright and sunny and filled with gentle, healing greenery. Harry had already prepared all the tea and cakes for the afternoon tea.

Slowly, other clients and guests arrived. And then, with the prickling of a sixth sense (or perhaps a nervousness), Harry was looking at the door when it opened to revealed two white-blond haired wixes: Draco Malfoy and his mother.

Harry had thought that Draco looked a lot like his father. But now, seeing _Narcissa_ , he realised how untrue that was.

“Welcome to the Host Club,” Draco was saying to his mother.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

Draco took his mother to meet each of the hosts, and at the end, they settled into some comfortable chairs with a group of young witches, while Harry served everyone.

“Ms. Malfoy, I heard rumours that you were sick,” Harry had to ask.

“Call me Narcissa, please. Ms. Malfoy sounds like my mother-in-law,” Narcissa said.

“Narcissa, sorry,” Harry dipped his head.

“It is true…” Narcissa sighed. “The Healers say it is Chronic Fatigue. Some days are harder than others.”

Harry gave her a sad smile. “If there is anything I can do?”

Narcissa patted him on the knee. “No need, Harry.”

“ _I_ will do anything to make you happy, Mother,” Draco said intensely. “I don’t want to stress you, to make you worry. _Please_ , Mother.”

Around them, the young witches all had plaintive looks on their faces.

“My son, my lovely son,” Narcissa murmured. “Seeing you happy makes me happy also.” She tucked back a lock of hair behind Draco’s ear. “And you’re happy here. And you’re unhappy with Iris.”

“I’ll _be_ happy,” Draco said.

Narcissa shook her head. “I can see it in your eyes, Draco. And I can see that you already have eyes for someone. So with my blessing, return to the Host Club.”

“ _Mother_.” Draco hugged his mother tightly. “Thank you.”

Around them, the young witches sniffled. Harry might have blinked and scrubbed at his eyes.

Narcissa, over the top of Draco’s head, gave Harry a pointed look that he didn’t understand, but made him gulp nervously.

Draco finally released his Mother. “Please, have some more cake,” he said. “Harry has acquired this from a muggle shop.”

“A bakery, actually,” Harry had to say.

But Draco wasn’t daunted, and he turned his face to Harry with a big smile that—

—that made Harry’s stomach flip.

“Tell us about it! How are muggle bakeries different?”

“Surely they are the same,” Narcissa started. “After all, cake is cake.”

Harry ripped his eyes away from Malfoy’s smile. “Um, right, I guess they don’t have random potions ingredients in them,” he mused. “And they make it by hand or machine.”

“Perhaps an excursion is necessary,” Narcissa said.

Draco grinned. “A wonderful idea, Mother! Pansy! Book a trip to a muggle bakery!”

“Can we come along?” asked one of the witches.

Draco gave them a charming smile. “I would love your company.”

The witch blushed, as did her companions.

Harry sighed happily. Everything was back to normal.

“Harry, a quick word?” Draco called out to Harry, before he could leave.

Harry turned back. “Yeah?”

Draco had that big grin that hadn’t really gone away. He rushed forward and took Harry’s hands.

“My mother has cancelled my engagement with Iris. You cannot _believe_ how grateful I am to you, that I could kiss you—”

Harry’s traitorous heart skipped a beat. There was something about _happiness_ in people that got to him—Ginny was case in point, before all the depressing stuff about the war happened.

“Um, ah, then…”

Draco bit his bottom lip. “Can I? Can I kiss you on the cheek?”

Harry felt hot. He nodded. “That’s alright.”

Draco tugged him closer and placed the lightest touch on Harry’s cheek. When he withdrew, he was smiling, eyes shining. “Thank you, Harry. Let’s be friends.”

Harry’s stomach swooped. His chest tightened painfully. “No,” his mouth said.

Draco froze. “No?” He let go of Harry’s hands, eyes downcast.

“No.” Harry repeated. He grabbed Draco by the waist and tugged him in. “If you don’t try, you’ll never know,” he said, half-justifying it to himself, as he leaned up and kissed Draco proper. Slightly moist, very tingly.

Harry’s heart fluttered in his chest.

Maybe Harry _did_ like him back. Just maybe.

Draco’s lips were red, and his eyes were dazed, and his cheeks were flush when Harry pulled back. It was _charming_.

Draco fixed his eyes on him. “Again. Just to make sure.”

Harry huffed, but he kissed Draco again, just to make sure.

“Finally!” Pansy yelled.

Fred and George whistled.

Harry tried to jump back, but Draco kept him in place. Draco’s fingers twirled, and a thornless rose appeared in his hand. He carefully tucked it into Harry’s hair.

“ _Cute_ ,” Draco said.

Harry flushed, and pushed him back. “I’m _handsome_ ,” he said.

“You’re cute,” Neville said. Blaise nodded in agreement.

“Ach, go home, everyone,” Pansy said.

“I’m busy tonight with Ron and Hermione,” Harry said.

“Tomorrow, then?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded. “It’s my turn to take you out.”

“I look forward to it.” And around them, flowers bloomed, and the sun shone, and birds tweeted.

  


  


  


“Okay, let me tell you, I _knew_ it before you told me about your date with Malfoy. I knew it when you started working with him at the Host Club!” Ron said immediately after Harry admitted that he had kissed Draco.

“Though, you took a damn long time. I thought you would be a proper Gryffindor and kiss _ages_ ago, like even before Malfoy came over here, but I guess you’re a bit of a cowardly Slytherin,” Ron continued.

“Yeah, what about you and Hermione and _seven years of Hogwarts?_ ”

“There’s nothing wrong with making sure!” Hermione said. “We better have dinner with Draco soon. _We_ need to vet him out properly... _without_ you there. We didn’t have a chance last time with everyone else.”

Harry gave them all a flat look. “I’m not helping you bury the body.”

Ron grinned. “Nah, don’t worry about that. We’re a lot more subtle.” He wiggled his eyebrows unsubtly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Merlin, can you imagine him meeting Molly and Arthur?”

“Yeah?” Ron asked.

“He’d charm their socks off,” Harry shook his head.

Ron’s eyes widened. “I would _love_ to see that.”

Hermione smirked. “Yes, Harry, when will you invite him to a Weasley Sunday? With _all_ the Weasleys?”

“Evil, you all are!” Harry said. “I’ll ask him as soon as possible.”

  


  


And one day, in the more distant future, Harry will receive one-hundred red roses in utter bewilderment. He will splutter when Neville tells him that it means that Draco’s love is eternal and unconditional. He will give out the roses to each of the guests, only to find that the last remaining rose transfigures into an engagement ring. Flowers and sparkles and music will surround him when Draco approaches. Draco will caress his chin, tilting Harry’s head up, and he will say,

“ _My favourite music is the sound of your voice, my favourite dish is the taste of your lips upon mine, and my favourite colour is the depths of your eyes within mine. Harry, will you be my love?_ ”

And Harry will flush and roll his eyes and say...

“Ugh, yes, you don’t have to be so flashy!”

  


  


_Fin._

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
> _The smooth spell-covered footpath leads up to the mansion. The grand front doors open revealing a luxurious interior. Further inside is another set of doors, gilt with gold. Upon touch, the door opens, and petals and sparkles trail out, along with the light scent of roses._
> 
> _The room yonder is large and impeccably decorated, a fantasy, a place outside the troubles of the world. At the center, are arranged seven wixes. They all smile, hold out their hands and say,_
> 
> “ _Welcome to the Host Club.”_
> 
>   
> 
> 
>   
> 

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of "Lights, Camera, Drarry" (LCDrarry), a film-, TV- and theatre-inspired Drarry fest.  
>  Creations are posted anonymously during the posting period. The creators will be revealed on [tumblr](http://lcdrarry.tumblr.com) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LCDrarry2019/works) on 15 June.


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